Close Enough
by MioneDarcy
Summary: Will Darcy took a photograph. This is the result. Modern AUish. This is the story of Will Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet at university - and in a few other locations - based on, but not exactly following, the tumultuous series of events Jane Austin gave us.
1. Chapter 1

"If your photographs aren't good enough, you're not close enough" – Robert Capa

A/N 19/07/18 I'm adding a friendly warning for new readers, especially those who have come from reading Love With No Place To Go: my writing at the beginning of this story is pretty rubbish (compared with my standard now). While not absolutely awful, Close Enough was the first novel length story I ever started, and as such has some problems with characterisation, plot and general writing style. Basically, it reads like it was written by a new author.

If you are not sure this is your cup of tea, try my other novel Love With No Place To Go. It's better than this one. Trust me.

If you think you can brave out the rocky start, it does get somewhat better the further in you get.

Thanks for giving this a go if you've decided to take the plunge x

A/N This is the story of Will Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet at university - and in a few other locations - based on, but not exactly following, the tumultuous series of events Jane Austin gave us. I don't know how long this is going to be… I am in for as much of a ride as you are! As usual, there are footnotes if you are interested, but ignore them if you are not (they are a couple of explanations, some clarification, and a bit of extra info). Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think. I would love to hear the direction in which you think the story could go, it may inspire me x

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Will Darcy was a photographer. First and foremost, he was a biology student at the University of Meryton, but in his heart, he was a photographer. This meant that his trusty camera never left his side – even during classes – and it was usually out it's bag, held up to his face. It was through the lens of his camera that he first glimpsed her. What caught his attention was the way her eyes shined in the light. It was an unusually bright day for Hertfordshire; a cloud was spotted, at most, once in two hours. For the last three days, the breeze had clung valiantly to the warmth which held over from the summer. And the university campus was packed, as though the students could feel the good weather slipping away, and had congregated in packs to savour it.

Will was in his third year of his Biology Masters, but had few close friends to show for it. He was simply not a social person. If he was with someone, it was most likely to be Charlie Bingley, a Social Sciences student whom he met during their freshers' week. [1] Charlie was amiable and engaging – Will likened him to a spaniel puppy. He got excited at the opportunity to meet new people, and his wide smile was as good as a wagging tail at conveying his delight. All in all, Charlie was the polar opposite to Will in every way. While Will had dark hair and piercing blue eyes, Charlie was ginger with soft, brown eyes. Will was, to quote his friend, 'ridiculously tall', while Charlie was on the shorter side of average – although no less handsome for it.

He was with Charlie when it happened. They were wondering about the campus with no particular direction – 'hanging out', Charlie called it – and Will had spotted the frame of an old bench against the backdrop of a crumbling fountain. "The shapes, Charlie," was the only explanation he gave before his camera was out. Then his lens caught her eyes.

It was pure coincidence. If he hadn't turned in a certain way to catch a certain angle of the bench against the softness of the fountain, and she hadn't turned slightly from where she was seated on the grass, surrounded by friends, his camera would not have been interested in her. But he had, and she did, and suddenly his roll was filled with photos of her eyes, and her hair and her elegant form. That was where the trouble started.

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Will has seen the advert for the amateur photography competition on a board in the university library, then again in a local newspaper. Immediately he thought of the photos he had taken in the park on campus. There was one photo in particular he had developed that he knew was special the moment it came out of the fixer. It was a photo of the woman – her head was turned slightly over her shoulder, her chin was tilted up, her luscious chestnut hair was full and moving and framed her delicate features, the sun highlighting streaks of red and gold. The star of the photo was her eyes. They were wide open and illuminated from within; the bright day had only added to their brilliance. They were round, framed by thick, dark lashes, and the deepest colour he had ever seen – neither grey nor blue, but the colour of the ocean, with flecks of green, hazel and brown.

He entered this photograph into the local competition. It won.

It was then entered into a regional competition. It won.

By February, it had been entered into the prestigious Amateur Photographer of the Year Awards. [2] It didn't win.

Nevertheless, it received a very impressive second place, and gained national recognition in photography circles. As it had been taken by one of their students, Meryton University made quite a big deal out of it. He assumed it was this fuss which had led to his current predicament.

The gorgeous woman from his photograph was stood at his door, a scowl transforming her face. What looked like a printout of his photo was clutched with a talon-like grip in her hand.

"You are William Darcy, are you not? You are the one who took this photo of me? And then shared it around without my permission, and did not deign to inform me you had been stalking me before you went and exploited my image? How long have you been following me?" [3] She demanded, gesticulating wildly, the printout flapping noisily in his face.

Will had opened the door unprepared for this woman's barrage of accusations, and was unable to form any words. In his silence, the woman's anger grew, and she stepped towards him threateningly. "Have you got any more of these? I want the memory card they are on, and you are going to delete any copies while I watch, okay? Get a move on."

"Are you stupid?" In hindsight, this was perhaps not the best question that could have come out of his mouth at that moment. "A photo of that quality? You have to be out of your mind. And I wasn't stalking you, I was just out that day with my camera, and caught you at a good angle. Obviously, despite your good looks, you're not smart. I suppose you were just visiting friends, weren't you? With your brain, I doubt you could get into university." The frustration that had built up in Will as he grappled with words during her speech came pouring out in a vitriolic fountain of venom.

"F*ck you," she had snarled back at him. "Not that I need to justify myself to you in any way, but I am here studying Chemical Engineering. Not only did I reach the two A*s and two As needed to get in, I surpassed them. So you can shove that camera up your backside, and get me the originals of that photo, and any other photo you took of me. Now." She had flushed a deep rose-pink, and her spectacular eyes where glistening. Her chest was heaving with the exertion of her anger; her arms moved erratically in the air in front of her.

"You are not getting anything. You can't come into my home and speak to me like that. The photos are my property and the negatives are staying right where they are, so if you would kindly remove yourself… I don't want to have to call the police." After his initial burst of passion, Will's face had become impassive. He drew himself up to his full – impressive – height, and stood directly in front of her. "Leave."

The woman threw the printout of his photo onto the floor, punched him squarely on the jaw, and left. [4]

TBC…

[1] Freshers' week is the week at the beginning of a British university year, usually with a programme of events intended to welcome the new first-year students – and often quite a bit of drinking (legal age in UK is 18)

[2] The various categories of Amateur Photographer of the Year are actually awarded between May and November. And I am pretending there is an overall Amateur Photographer of the Year – as far as I can tell, there isn't, there is just a winner for each round: portraiture, landscapes and cityscapes, black and white etc.

[3] Will had not been stalking her, but the reader can understand why she may make this assumption. However, most stalking is not done by a stranger, but by someone with a relationship with the victim eg. an ex-partner. It is characterised by obsessive behaviour, when the stalker takes great time and effort to make contact with their target. It is essential that at the first sign of stalking, the police are involved, because it will usually end after the first intervention, and it only ever gets worse if left alone. A greater awareness is now being raised in the UK to educate people in the difference between 'they think the break up was a mistake, and still love me', and 'they are so obsessed with me, they are spending hours out of their day attempting to contact me'.

[4] I don't think a man should EVER hit a woman, I equally believe a woman should NEVER hit a man. That said, I am not Elizabeth, so do I think a modern Elizabeth might hit Darcy? Yeah.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N In this chapter, Elizabeth says things. I think it reduces a character if we act like they are either good or bad – people are neither one or the other, and to pretend they are is to not do them justice. Jane Austin gave us an intelligent, witty, loving character in Elizabeth, but she is also judgmental and hypocritical. Hopefully this reflects that, just know they are not my opinions.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think - constructive criticism is much appreciated x

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Elizabeth Bennet was fuming. She was incensed, she was raging, she was mad.

"My God, the arrogance of that man! And then he threatening to call the police! Surely I can press charges of some kind. Like, like, unlawful distribution of unsanctioned photos, or, um, something? Surely you know a lawyer, can you ask them?" [1] Lizzie was pacing up and down her tiny student flat, all four paces across.

Pace, pace, pace, pace, turn. Pace, pace, pace, pace, turn.

She was on the phone to her elder sister, Jane. "I bet you meet loads of lawyers at work, right? Coming in with their stress and their dodgy livers." Jane worked as a healthcare assistant at a GP surgery in London. [2] The two sisters were close despite the four-year age gap. Their mother had died in the Iraq war, serving in her capacity as Army medic, and their father had remarried just a year later. Jane and Lizzy had three half-sisters with ages ranging from ten to four, but with Jane living in London and Elizabeth's general distaste for her step-mother, the eldest were not close to the younger.

"Now Lizzie, I saw the photo, and it really is quite lovely. I understand that you feel a little uncomfortable about the photographer taking it without you realising, but from what you have told me of your conversation, he didn't do it to intimidate you. You didn't even know about it until you saw it at the university – if he was going to attempt to contact you with it, he would have done so by now." Jane's voice was soft and melodic. It had the consistency of honey, with just as much sweetness. "And I don't think it would appropriate for me to bring something like this up at work, you know that." The practice where Jane worked was in Knightsbridge, a wealthy area - it looked after the bankers, business people and property moguls. Jane had been there for the last two years because it proved a steady salary, but her dream was to work with disadvantaged children, and was training as a social worker on the side.

"It is just so creepy, Janie. And I've asked around a bit, apparently this guy William Darcy is really quiet and doesn't talk to people much. What if he is some sort of sociopath, but nobody has noticed yet because he hides away behind his camera?"

"I doubt that sweetie. Perhaps you should go and see him again to get all of this resolved, and you'll feel better after that. Just try to keep your temper in check this time. I love you, sweetie, I've got to go now, so I'll talk you to later, okay? Bye."

Elizabeth huffed as Jane ended the call, then groaned as she saw a text had come through while she had been renting to Jane. 'Call your father, you have not spoken to him this week, he will think you are a bad daughter if he does not hear from you soon.' Great. Step-mummy was being prissy again. She replied, 'I called to him yesterday, if you actually spoke to your husband occasionally, you would know that.'

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During her interrogation of her friends amongst the third year Chemical Engineer students, she had been told that William Darcy was most often seen with Charlie Bingley. So when she was at party with these friends, a week after her explosive encounter with Darcy, and she was introduced to a Charlie Bingley, she took particular notice. Extending her hand, she smiled charmingly.

"Hi there, its lovely to meet you. I'm Lizzie Bennet."

Charlie shook her hand with great enthusiasm, a wide grin spread across his face. "Absolutely grand. A pleasure." There was a look of recognition in his eyes, but then his brows drew together in thoughtful contemplation. His mouth worked for several seconds, as though he was chewing on the courage to ask a potentially sensitive question. "Are you, that is to say, do I know you? You seem awfully familiar, have we met before?

"I wouldn't say we have met, but it wouldn't surprise me if you felt like you've seen me around. A photo of me did quite well in some competition, and the photographer is from the Uni, so it did the rounds. You might know him, William Darcy?" She knew very well that the two men were friends.

"That was you in the photo Will took? Of course, I can see it know. You know, I was with him the day he took that. I remember, because it was the last day of really good weather we had last year, and I had dragged him out to be sociable. But there was an old bench that he took a liking to for some reason, and he spent ten minutes taking photos of it. But then he gets side-tracked, and when I asked him what the matter was, he just starts mumbling about hair and eyes and the like. It wasn't until a month later when he won the local photography competition that he owns up to being distracted by a beautiful woman in the park. I know he didn't go over and introduce himself when I was with him, but did he find you a bit later?"

"As a matter of fact, he did not, you know. But don't worry, we… became acquainted… last week. It was… an enlightening experience."

Charlie winced, but a laugh broke through. _Probably the only man in the world who can cringe and do the whole lopsided-grin thing all at once,_ Lizzie mused to herself. "Oh no," he chuckled, "what did he do this time? He didn't get all awkward and refuse to look up from his feet or make eye contact, did he? He does that."

"He was tentative to begin with, certainly, but he… emerged from his shell by the end of the conversation," she considered, diplomatically. "He had no difficulty expressing his feelings once he got going."

"He loves that photo so much. He doesn't say it, but it was the best photo he has ever taken. He wouldn't tell you that though; Will is not a man to share things like that."

Elizabeth scoffed under her breath. "Well, you know him better than I do."

Charlie did not seem to notice that Elizabeth did not have a favourable opinion of his friend. He carried on chatting to her for several minutes – his enthusiasm was infectious and Elizabeth's mood quickly lifted. Soon, the abundance of alcohol loosened up the guests enough for some spontaneous dancing to start. Charlie spun Lizzie about for a couple of songs, before moving on to one of the older Chemical Engineering students. Elizabeth took several turns around the makeshift dance floor with a Geography Student before calling it a night. Her friends' flat was not far from her Halls so she decided to walk – it had been a bad idea. [3] The alcohol which had numbed the pain of her heels while she was dancing was starting to wear off, and she ended up hobbling down the road, trying to avoid putting weight on her burning feet – an impossible feat. To add to the ordeal, her left heel became jammed into a crack in the pavement, and she lurched into lamp post. She ended up on the floor with a horrible throbbing in her ankle and a nasty lump developing on her head.

A shadow was suddenly cast in the light of the lamp post, and though a wave of dizziness Elizabeth saw a hand extended.

"Are you alright?"

 _Bollocks,_ Elizabeth thought, _I know that voice._

TBC…

[1] I have no idea what the law is in the UK as far as taking photos without permission is concerned, however I suspect that as Will is not selling the photo, is not using it for advertising and it could not be considered defamatory, it would not be illegal. For the sake of the story, it is not illegal. Just don't take my word for it in real life. Update 13/05/17 I have been informed that in most photography contests such as for National Geographic, you must have the permission of the person in the photo, unless they cannot be recognised eg, at a great distance. But for the sake of the story, let's pretend it was allowed. Please.

[2] GP stands for General Practitioner. Your GP is your first stop for all non-emergency medical issues.

[3] Halls of residence – where university students usually live in their first year, and sometimes their second.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N There was some concern about Jane and Bingley – don't worry, it will happen. There isn't a significant age difference, which I will attempt to incorporate into the story to explain. Every scene I write is inspired by a moment in the book, but the sequence has been rearranged and sometimes different characters are involved. In this chapter, Darcy does his own special brand of caring – with all of the officiousness we know and love. Let me know what you think x

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A shadow was suddenly cast in the light of the lamp post, and though a wave of dizziness Elizabeth saw a hand extended.

"Are you alright?"

 _Bollocks,_ Elizabeth thought, _I know that voice._

Will Darcy was standing over her with his arm outstretched. He had a camera slung around his neck, and the collar of his – _stupid_ \- long, tweed coat was turned up against the chill. Elizabeth attempted to stand up by herself, but the pain in her ankle proved too great, and she fell back onto her side. Her tall rescuer tentatively placed his arm around her elbow and assisted her in standing, then looped her arm into the crook of his.

"You can't walk with your ankle in this condition, especially in those shoes. You'll remember my flat is just around the corner – let me help you back there and I'll call you cab." His tone was courteous, and Elizabeth could detect none of the contempt which had been there in their last – and only other – conversation.

"Not on your life, mate," she snarled under her breath, before groaning in pain as her head throbbed fiercely. Black spots flashed in front of her eyes, then she pitched sideways, before throwing up. On to William Darcy's shoes.

"Are you drunk?" Will spat, his civil tone gone. His nose was turned up and his face wrinkled into a grimace of distain. "No wonder you hurt yourself, you look legless." [1]

"I'm not drunk, you prat, I think I have a concussion. Thanks for not judging, though." Elizabeth's ankle ached, her head was pounding, and she had had enough of the unpleasant man in front of her. It seemed, however, that William Darcy did not care. He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and started guiding her forwards.

"In that case, you definitely need to come with me. I'm not letting you walk home so you can pass out on the pavement." He took a final glance down at his vomit-covered boat shoes, gagged slightly, and carried on. Despite Elizabeth's protestations, she felt too unwell to object too vehemently, so she allowed her companion to guide her to his apartment building and into a lift.

"I imagine you took the stairs last time, did you?" Elizabeth was slumped against the wall, but lifted her head to look at him. He had a small smile on his face.

"You decided now was a good time for a sense of humour to emerge, did you? One word, Darcy – shoes." Will's eyes flicked downwards, and the small smile disappeared. To her chagrin, Elizabeth realised she missed it as soon as it was gone – he had returned to scowling at her. The lift make a pinging noise and the doors opened. It was just a few steps until they got to his appartment.

"You truly look dreadful," _thanks mate, you know how to flatter a girl,_ "Do you have a roommate who could come and pick you up, I don't think you are well enough to be left alone."

"No," she replied, wincing as Will turned on the lights and kicked off his shoes, before he pulled off his socks with a grimace, "I'm in my first year – I'm still in halls."

"You are going to have to stay here, then. We don't know how severe your concussion is yet."

"And sleep where, on the sofa? Or worse, your bed? No way."

"You can use my sister's room. She is away at our Aunts. The secondary school she is at has funny holidays – her Easter holidays are earlier than everyone else's. I didn't want her staying here alone all day while I've got classes. She won't be back until after the weekend when our Easter break properly starts." Will spoke oddly, his speech was stilted as though he had reservations about what he was sharing but was trying hard to affect a casual air. Elizabeth had a glance about the room, and noticed several unusual things that would have surprised her last time she was here, had she been distracted away from her anger long enough to notice them. There was a pair of slightly tacky high heels tucked under the coffee table – the sort you could only get away with as a teenager – and a pile of GCSE textbooks stacked on the sideboard. [2]

"I didn't realise you lived with your sister. Where are your parents?" The words were out of her mouth before she realised it may not be appropriate to pry. _Brilliant, apparently concussion equals no filter._ It was too late to take it back, and Will had already begun to close off. His jaw had tightened, a vein had started to visibly throb at his temple, and a small line had appeared between his brows.

"Her bedroom is through that door," he said, gesturing, "The sheets are clean, and I will get you a towel for in case you feel sick again." His tone had lost all softness – he was civil but cold and his face was expressionless. "If you are uncomfortable, there is a lock on the door, but it may be better to keep it unlocked in case your concussion worsens."

By this point, Lizzie was in considerable pain just standing on her ankle and her photophobia was escalating, so she hobbled into the bedroom with her eyes almost shut, holding on to the wall. "Thanks for this by the way," she murmured, but by the time she turned around after registering the lack of response, her host was gone. Elizabeth paused, slumped on the bed, to pull her hair out of its attempt at a fancy up-do, then slipped under the covers. She took a moment to pull out her phone and send a text to Jane:

'I almost got knocked out but now I'm in William Darcy's flat, just in case you don't hear from me for a week'

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When Elizabeth woke up, the sun was streaming through the window where the curtains had not been closed, and her phone was buzzing on the floor where it has just vibrated off the bed side table. She squinted against the light and reached down for her phone, glad that the dizziness from the night before had lessened. The screen of her phone was flashing with fourteen missed calls, twelve voicemails and twenty-two text messages – all of them from Jane. Lizzie panicked. The moment Jane answered her call, she began rambling.

"Is everything alright, Janie? Something hasn't happened to Dad, has it? Oh God, his heart has finally packed in, hasn't it? I told him all those years of smoking would do him in one day." Jane made a noise of protest from the other end of the line. "Wait, it's not Dad, you haven't been burgled, have you? It is alright, you can come down and stay with me in my student box until you can get everything sorted."

"Lizzie, Lizzie, LIZZIE! I'm fine, it is you I am worried about. You sent me a scary text last night, I was worried something had happened. It said you were at William Darcy's?"

"I don't remember texting you, I must have been just about to fall asleep. And I'm alright, my head is just a bit sore, and I twisted my ankle. I bumped into Darcy and he wouldn't let me go home alone, so I ended up staying in his sister's room. There is no need for you to worry, I'm sorry I scared you." There was a heavy sigh of relief from Jane.

"I'm glad, can you please try not to frighten me like that again. I'm so sorry Lizzie, but now I know you are safe, I really have to rush – I am already late for work. I was hanging on because I didn't want to be unreachable on the tube. I love you, and will call you again later, okay?"

The sisters exchanged their goodbyes, and Lizzie hung up. She could hear the sound of movement outside her door. Gingerly stepping out of the bed, she unhooked a dressing gown from the back of the door, and wrapped it around herself, over the previous night's dress. Holding on to the door frame to steady herself, she opened the door and hobbled out into the lounge. Darcy was stood by the door into the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea.

"Good, you are up. I just got off the phone with NHS 111, I need to take you to A&E. [3] The woman on the line said that I should have taken you in when you started vomiting, she said it is an indication of a more than mild concussion. You can get your ankle checked out at the same time." Darcy had moved across the living room with his cup in his hands; he strode past her into the bedroom she had just come from. "My sister's clothes are here – hopefully you will find something that fits you, you are not too different in size, I think."

"Excuse me? What do you think you are doing, ordering me around like that? Just give me a minute, and I will find a friend to come and pick me up. They can bring me some clothes."

"I can't let you do that. I should have taken you to the hospital last night – blame my ignorance, I have not dealt with a concussion before. Put some clothes on and I'll re-boil the kettle. Do you prefer tea or coffee?" Elizabeth just spluttered in response, _the arrogance of that man!_ "You can take a shower if you like, it is just down the hall, two doors to your left, do you need a new towel?"

Elizabeth went to stalk forward, but had forgotten about her ankle – or the pain had simple been masked by her outrage – and she fell straight onto her backside. Will leapt forward to help her right herself, but Lizzie just pushed herself up with her hands, growled in Darcy's direction, and limped past him to the bathroom, grabbing her towel on her way.

TBC…

[1] The British have some fabulous words for drunk – legless is just one of them. Some of my favourites include 'off yer trolley', 'steampigged', 'sozzled, 'plastered' and 'nicely irrigated with horizontal lubricant'.

[2] GCSE stands for General Certificate of Secondary Education: the qualification taken in a specific subject, usually taken in Year 11 (15-16 yr olds) in the UK (except Scotland, who take a Standard Grade)

[3] 111 is the NHS non-emergency number, for when you need urgent medical advice, but it is not life threatening. A&E stands for Accidents and Emergencies, and deals with life-threatening emergencies, as well as your bog-standard accidents eg. broken bones.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N This is shorter than I would have liked, but it seemed like the natural place to stop. Also, I am heading straight into a month of horrible exams, so I want to get this out in case I finally come to the realisation that I need to be doing practice papers and revision rather than writing. The idea for this story came at a really inconvenient time!

I have had a few needlessly mean reviews for this story, which was disheartening. I am very new to writing, and while I understand some stories are simply not to everyone's taste, writing stuff like 'this is stupid' only makes the reviewer sound nasty, an is neither helpful nor clever. If you have a useful comment to improve my writing, I look forward to it, but it is saddening that what I have heard happen to other writers on this site has already started to happen to me.

As usual, constructive criticism is welcomed – enjoy! X

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Elizabeth was sat in the passenger seat of a car too nice for a university student. With the university student who owned it. It was one of those disgustingly expensive cars whose drivers you hated, but envied anyway. This driver had awful taste in music and seemed incapable of small talk. He did not even look at Elizabeth as he pulled into a parking space in the hospital car park and promptly got out of the car, but he appeared second later to open her car door and extend a hand. _Insufferable man._

"I would go and see if they had a wheel chair I could bring out to you, but something tells me you would not use it any way." Elizabeth grumbled at this, but could not deny the truth of it. She grudgingly took his hand and Will hefted her out of her seat. She had borrowed a pair of Will's sister's trainers, so she found it easier to walk without her companion's support. Elizabeth was wearing his sister's clothes as well – a confusing jumper made of thick cable-knitted material which had the shoulders cut out ( _if it is cold enough for the thickness, why would you want freezing shoulders?)_ and a pair of leggings. Despite Darcy's assurances that she was the same size as his sister, he could only have meant in the height department. His sister obviously had the build of a teenager, and Elizabeth had, simply put, boobs and hips. The jumper with odd shoulders was the only item baggy enough to fit Lizzie's curves, and the leggings were the only trousers which did not resemble drainpipes.

They ended up sitting in the waiting room for an hour and a half. During this time, Darcy said all of five words: "Do you want a drink?" The rest of the time, he had sat in silence next to her. Elizabeth simply couldn't puzzle him out. His behaviour had been courteous and kind, but he had demonstrated an arrogance and a wilful distain for the feelings of others when they had been dealing with the issue of the photograph, and periodically since their coincidental meeting the evening before.

"Tell me about your sister, how old is she?" _There,_ Elizabeth thought _, that might get him talking._

"Sixteen." _Perhaps not._

"And your Aunt, the one she is staying with, where does she live?"  
"Kent."

There was another pause. Lizzie had never felt a silence so awkward. Darcy thought it was quite companionable.

"You never told me her name."  
"I don't suppose I did."

The silence stretched like an elastic band – ready to snap the moment the tension was too great.

"What _is_ her name?"

"Georgiana."

"That's pretty."

Darcy did not reply. _It was nice talking to you,_ Lizzie thought.

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When she was finally seen, the doctors concluded that she had a sprained ankle, and that she had a mild concussion, although it was not something to be worried about.

"If you start vomiting again, or at any point you become dizzy, confused or your headache worsens, you must come back in. But if you continue to improve as you seem to be, you should be fine," the doctor had told as she handed Lizzie a sheet of paper outlining all the things she should not do for the next few weeks, including drinking alcohol, driving or playing contact sports.

"And there I was, planning to drive to the sports fields, get drunk and play rugby," she quipped with a smile at Darcy. His expression did not change.

"Not with that fat ankle you won't be." About that, he was correct. As they had both been focused on the possibility of a nasty concussion, they had neither iced nor elevated her injured foot. The result was a swollen, purple and blue ankle which was now enclosed in a compression bandage. She was advised to go home and rest, keep her foot propped up for the next seventy-two hours, and take some paracetamol to ease the pain. [1]

"Remember to keep it moving, even though you can't put weight on it – up and down like you are pressing on a car pedal, and in circles, in both directions. Try to start waking normally as soon as you can, although it may take a while." With this final advice, Elizabeth was given crutches, and sent on her way. [2]

As they made their way into the car park, Darcy finally seemed ready for a conversation.

"If you are going to be on those crutches for more than a few days, you are going to want to wrap something around the handles. Just a couple of socks, slipped over the ends, should suffice do now, but you may wish to consider something spongier. The blisters and pressure sores can get nasty."

"It sounds like you know about it – have you broken a leg?"

Darcy's face closed off again, and he turned away from her. His eyes grew stony. "Not me. My sister, she broke, she had her leg broken last summer." His expression told her that particular subject had come to an end. Despite the hard set of his jaw, his good manners prevailed, and he assisted her into the passenger seat, placed her crutches into the boot, and sat heavily into the driver's seat. He did, however, slam his door shut.

On the way back to Elizabeth's halls, she decided to broach that had been hanging between them like dark, thick clouds during a thunder storm.

"Darcy, we didn't really get the bottom of this last time it came up – can you please tell me about the photo?"  
Will glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You would not let me explain last time it came up, you mean." His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "What more do you need to know? I took a good photo of you, you didn't like it, end of."

"I did like it actually. It is a beautiful photo," she replied bashfully. "I just, didn't I at least deserve the courtesy of you telling me it was going to entered into competitions?"

The car had arrived at Elizabeth's accommodation. Will gently guided it into a space and turned off the engine, before shifting to face her fully. "I did try to tell you."

"Oh." That was not the answer she had expected.

"I asked around, and showed people the photograph, but nobody seemed to know who you were. It didn't help that, well, my social circle isn't the widest, and it felt awkward to ask people I didn't really know. I tried again when I decided to enter it into the competition, but even then, people didn't recognise you. That is why I though you did not go to university here, by the way. I guess it was just too early in the year for you to have made friends with that many people."

"Wait, you tried to find me before you even thought about the competition?" Darcy's gaze moved to just over her shoulder, and his expression became detached.

"Of course I did. I wanted to see those eyes close up, in person. They were special enough through the lens of a camera." Elizabeth didn't know what to say. For the first time in her life, she was genuinely speechless. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Darcy sighed, then climbed out of the car. By the time he had retrieved her crutches and opened the door on her side of the car, Lizzie had found her voice – at least, enough for the niceties.

"Thank you so much for helping me last night and this morning, Darcy. Really." She reached and out took his hand, squeezed it lightly, once, and said her goodbyes. If she had turned around before reaching the door, she would have seen him standing exactly where she had left him, with the hand she had squeezed raised to his lips.

TBC…

[1] The British use the name paracetamol instead of acetaminophen, which is marketed in the US as Tylenol, and in Australia as Panadol.

[2] I didn't do any proper research for treatment of sprains, I just asked my dad, a doctor, to give me an overview. That said, he is a gastroenterologist, so don't trust it, go to a real physio! The concussion stuff is from my own experience – I got hit in the back of the head by a jibing boom while dingy sailing. I was promptly sick over the side of the boat, sailed back in to land, and felt better several day later. However, never leave a possible head injury to chance, go see a doctor at the earliest chance. It is better to be safe than sorry!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N I did a load of revision for my exams, then rewarded myself by writing this chapter. I have got lots of requests for more on Darcy, hopefully this chapter gives you a few more details, and I have bit of an exposé planned for the next post. Thank you so much for all the support I got after the last chapter (special thanks to **myshlp** ) I really appreciated the lovely messages.

I have been informed that most photography competitions require you to have the permission of the people in the photograph, unless they are not recognisable i.e. if they are at a great distance – many thanks to **a shadow in the dark** for letting me know. This means I am going to have to ask for the suspension of some belief, please… it is a bit late for me to change that detail now! Let me know what you think, enjoy x

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Jane had decided that with Elizabeth sofa/bed-bound and alone – the Easter holidays had started, so most people had left – she would take a few days off work, and visit. Elizabeth was not about to complain. With only a few international students remaining, the communal areas had been virtually empty, which meant that she could lie about on the couches with her foot elevated, but it also meant she was lonely. She was used to the kitchen being packed, and somebody always fighting for the best seats near the TV. Jane had offered to bring a blow-up camping bed with her, to sleep on Lizzie's floor; Elizabeth did some negotiating, and instead arranged for her sister to stay in her friend Charlotte's room. It was an easy distance down the hall for Jane to get a good night's sleep before heading to Lizzie's room.

In addition to Jane's good company, Lizzie received a surprising but welcome phone call, from none other than Charlie Bingley. He told her that he had got her number off a friend of a friend. Will had told him about her dodgy ankle and bad head, Charlie wanted to check she was alright and offer his company – as he had a house in town, he stayed there year-round. Elizabeth was ecstatic about the idea of some varied company, and extended an open invitation to him.

These events coincided the produce the current circumstances: Elizabeth was sprawled across her favourite sofa with her foot propped up on the arm of it; Jane was perched on the edge of a stool while Charlie had sunk into the armchair next to her. They had not taken their eyes off each other since Elizabeth had introduced them. _Here we go, phase two of 'A Brief History of my Life'._ Charlie had finished telling Jane all about himself – his family, his degree, his childhood dog, his love of the cinema, his hernia. Except not the last one. _He might as well have done_. Now his was leaning forward, asking questions about her sister.

"Lizzie said you worked in healthcare?"

"Yes, I'm a healthcare assistant down in London – Knightsbridge, although I live much further out." Charlie's face lit up.

"My parents live in Knightsbridge!" Jane looked momentarily taken aback by this news, but continued answering his questions.

"I'm now training as a social worker. I moved to London after doing my healthcare training when I was twenty – that was four years ago now, I'd like to start the work I'm really passionate about. Of course, there are so many disadvantaged kids in London, but there are many pockets of rural deprivation that don't get the same focus – I would like to do some good there. If I can get a job here, I am thinking of moving to Hertfordshire to be closer to Lizzy and the rest of the family." Charlie looked absolutely besotted. His elbow was resting on his knee, and his chin was in his hand. Jane was equally enthralled – there were two pink spots high on her cheeks, and Elizabeth was sure she had never seen her smile so widely.

Charlie stayed until it was almost dinnertime. The Bennet sisters offered him a spot with them – Jane was going to throw a meal together – but he begged off, explaining to them he already had arrangements with his sister Caroline, who had recently returned to the country from Italy. He did, however, earnestly take hold of Jane's hand and assure her that he would see her soon. Jane warned him that she would have to return to London by the end of the week, but that she would be delighted if he could make the time for her. Her eyes had been bright, and her smile enchanted.

Charlie lived up to his promise of contacting her. After calling Lizzie to check on her the next morning, Charlie had been passed to Jane, with whom he arranged dinner for the two of them, that evening. Jane had been reluctant to leave Lizzie, but her younger sister had been adamant.

"A handsome, clever guy who is only a year younger than you thinks you are hot and wants to take you to dinner… I am not letting you say no!" she insisited.

Jane had pulled out the nicest of the clothes she had brought – she had packed for playing nursemaid, not dating – which turned out to be a pretty coral turtleneck, and reasonably smart slacks. She borrowed a pair of Lizzie's high heels in an attempt to make the outfit slightly dressier. She decided not to worry about being too fancy, as she knew Charlie was a student.

This was an uninformed decision.

"His father is an investment banker, Lizzie," she had cried when she returned the Lizzie's room, _very late,_ Elizabeth had observed. "I thought we would go to Nando's or somewhere, but he took me to this really classy, posh Italian restaurant across town. I really wasn't dressed up enough." [1] Jane's eyes were teary, although her cheeks were still dry, and her hands alternatingly clenched and shook with her distress. "He was so kind about it, saying he hadn't told me where he was planning to take me so I couldn't have known, but the looks we kept getting! And it turns out his father is a big man in the city, and he has a trust fund and investments – he's only twenty-three and he already has more money than I will have in a lifetime! I just don't know what to do."

Elizabeth grasped her hand firmly, and pulled into a hug. "You go on another date with him, then you go back to London, to your life, then you give him a call. If it is meant to work out, it will work out. Who cares is he has more money than should be humanly possible, he is a good man, and you enjoyed spending the evening with him, didn't you?" A soft smile graced Jane's lips and her eyes were soft.

"He didn't start Uni until he was twenty, did you know, because he spent a year and a half after school in South and Central America, building houses for homeless people. And his father was pressuring him to do Philosophy, Politics and Economics, [2] but he was adamant that he study Social Sciences – he said that he had learned enough from his father to run his investments, but that he wanted to make a real difference in the world, not just sit on the board of some high-powered London business."

"You are acting like you really like him, Janie, don't let self-doubt get in the way. Give him a call tomorrow; arrange to see him before you leave." Lizzie leant forward and pressed a kiss to her sister's forehead. "I love you, and I want you to be happy. I think Charlie might make you happy. Ergo, I say don't panic, and make the most of what you can."

"I love you too Lizzy," Jane murmured with a smile. "And I had a really good time with Charlie, despite my outfit." Jane gave Lizzie a final hug, tucked her into bed like she used to do when they were children, and left for Charlotte's room.

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Before Jane left four days later, Charlie had taken her out for coffee and a stroll, as well as popping in on the morning of her departure with cinnamon Danish pastries – Jane's favourite – and a box of chocolates for the journey. Jane had spent his visit glowing; Lizzie had never seen he sister so happy. She was also glad that while Jane had gained an admirer, she had gained a friend. Charlie had an infectious enthusiasm for life which was hard to resist. He visited the day after Jane had returned to London, to check she wasn't lonely without Jane, and to invite her to a party at his place. Elizabeth wanted to decline, but Charlie convinced her that now she was up and about on crutches she could manage it, and he assured her that he would make sure there was adequate seating for her. In the end, she was looking forward to it. It was a different crowd to the people she usually socialised with, but Lizzie loved meeting new people, and this was another chance to make new friends.

Because she didn't want the hassle of dealing with a skirt while on crutches, she dug some dressy trousers from the back of her wardrobe, and paired it with her favourite red, satin blouse. She decided that the risk of it becoming crinkled early in the night with her sitting down was outweighed by the feel of the satin against her skin, and the colour it made her eyes appear.

She had arranged with Charlie that he would pick her up – he told her that his sister was acting a co-host, and he could be spared for twenty minutes – but half an hour before the agreed time, he rang to say that his sister needed him to stay at the house, but that he had sent a friend to pick her up. For some reason, it never occurred to her that the friend could be Darcy.

But there he was, standing in her doorway. He was wearing a deep green, tailored, button-down shirt which made his piercing blue eyes stand out, and his dark hair look thick and glossy in the light of the corridor. "Your carriage awaits, my lady," he pronounced with a grin, sweeping into an elegant bow. "I would offer my arm, but the fair lady has other means of support, I see."

This was a playful side of Darcy that she had never seen before, and while she was taken aback slightly, she was also delighted. It appeared to her that the dour demeanour which had hung about him like a rain cloud in their previous interactions had disappeared completely, and she could only be glad about this. He escorted her out to his ridiculously expensive car, holding the building door open for her so she could make it through on her crutches, and patiently waited for her to settle in her seat before taking them to the boot. [3] Elizabeth wriggled into the leather and breathed a sigh of pleasure. "Did I tell you last time just how much I love these seats?" Darcy could not take his eyes from her face; his eyes had darkened, he licked his lips.

"They feel like butter…" she moaned, her eyes half closed, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I had them custom made for this car when I bought it – the company actually makes luxury leather furniture, I commissioned them to make these. I was definitely worth the expense." Darcy was still captivated by the expression on her face, and was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than a small area of skin on her throat, visible as she stretched her neck backwards.

"I would hate you for spending that much money on some car seats, and yet, I can't, not while I'm sitting in one."

"I would rather you did not hate me for anything." Darcy's voice was deep and low. He took is hand off the steering wheel where it had been resting, and brushed a stay hair out of Elizabeth's face. His hand paused at the soft skin which had entranced him moments before reaching down to take her hand.

TBC…

[1] Nando's is an Afro-Portuguese inspired casual restaurant, started in South Africa. In 2015, it was named Britain's most popular place for a first date… cause we're classy like that.

[2] Philosophy, Politics and Economics (PPE) is known as the degree which runs Britain. Offered by the best Universities in the UK, you would be hard pressed to find many of the highest-powered politicians who did not have this degree.

[3] I probably don't actually need translate this one, but the boot is the trunk, the bit at the back of the car you put your bags in.


	6. Interlude

A/N This is a short one - I was planning to introduce a lot of these details later in the story, but so many people have asked for more about Will, I could not resist, so I wrote this little interlude to provide some background, and give you an indication of what Darcy might be thinking. That said, he is supposed to be a bit of an enigma – why else would Lizzie keep misunderstanding him? – and there are some details I need to keep secret for the sake of writing an engaging story. I loved hearing your thoughts on the last chapter, you are going to have to wait to see how that situation pans out. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

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William Darcy was in lust. He could not say he was in love – he had met the object of his attentions too few times to truly be in love – but he was more attracted to a woman than he had ever been before in his life. The woman's name was Elizabeth Bennet. He did not actually discover her full name until he accompanied her to the hospital, but by the time she first barged into his life, he had discovered the name of the woman in his photo was called Lizzie. God, she was beautiful.

Will had always lived a withdrawn life – even as a small child he had been painfully shy. His mother had been his saving grace. Anne Darcy had been a gentle soul with a bubbly demeanour but an elegance and refinement which belayed her aristocratic upbringing and expensive finishing school education. His mother encouraged him to make friends at school, to fight against his shy nature, and Will blossomed because of this. To add to his joyful childhood, when he was nine years old, he had been blessed with a tiny, golden-haired sister. The day after, he lost his mother. From then on, his life was dark; his only care was protecting his faerie-like sister. His days were spent ensuring her happiness and health – every moment he was not in school, he was playing with Georgiana, teaching her to read, helping her to take her first steps.

While William was seizing his role a big brother with alacrity, his father was slowly wasting away. Now that Will was older and more mature, he could see that his father had never learned to deal with the crushing weight of his grief for his dear wife, nor could he face the tiny child whose birth cost him the love of his life. At times, Will struggled to remember his father with the admiration and love he knew he felt; instead, sometimes all he could feel was anger at the man's slow withdrawal from the world.

By the time Will was fifteen, his father was inviting his to observe the board meetings of the various corporations the Darcy family had their fingers in. By sixteen, Will had assumed most of the responsibility for managing the Darcy estate in Derbyshire. By seventeen, he was all but running every asset his father had – he was sitting in on board meetings in his father's place, arranged outside of school time so he could attend, he was coordinating the people who kept the working farm at Pemberley running, he was taking his little sister to ballet practice. By eighteen, his father was dead.

William got custody of Georgiana. He had to share guardianship with his older cousin, Richard, who was a Superintendent in the Metropolitan Police – Richard sold his flat and moved into the Darcy's London townhouse to support his cousins. Despite the bereavement of his father's death, the pressure of managing Darcy assets and his responsibility for Georgiana, Will managed to get good grades in his A-levels: biology, chemistry, maths and business studies. [1] He did not apply to university straight away, but stayed home with Georgie to step full-time into his position as elder-bother/father-figure, as Richard's job became more time consuming. No longer in school, Will firmly took the reins of all the businesses he was involved in – the estate at Pemberley flourished when he brought in a new steward for the farm; he was active in his participation during board meetings, and was a significant reason the corporations weathered the storms of the financial difficulties.

When Will was twenty-one, he finally felt he could apply for university, and by twenty-two he was starting his first year of a four year biology Masters. He moved out to Hertfordshire with his thirteen year old sister, where he bought a two-bedroom flat. For the first two years, Georgie had returned to London every weekend to attend ballet lessons and spend time with her other guardian, and they spent each holiday at Pemberley, where Richard joined them if he could get the time off. Last spring, that had all changed.

The doctors told Georgie she would be lucky to ever dance again; if she managed to return to ballet, she would never reach the standard at which she had once been. The trip down those stairs had done more than shatter her tibia and bruise her ribs; Georgiana's confidence in herself and other people was destroyed too.

Luckily, she was starting to emerge from her shell again. Once she was up and about, she was able to reengage with some of her friends. The week before she had left for their Aunt Catherine's, she had gone to a friend's birthday party in thick-soled, tacky high heels and a short dress, like any other sixteen year old. To finally see her behave like a teenager again had warmed his heart (although to see her dressed like that had almost caused a heart _attack_ ). She was still very unsure of people, but she was starting to open up a little, and that was all Will could hope for.

Now that he was not constantly preoccupied with Georgiana's well being – though it was still his first priority – his world once again began to expand from the tight circle of Georgie, business, uni and photography that he had reduced it to. He was attending to the social side of business in London, he was out more with the students he went to lectures with, he started noticing women again. If only the woman to catch his attention had not been Lizzie Bennet. Abrasive, sharp-tongued, quick-tempered Elizabeth Bennet. Her accent was common, her manner coarse, her language unnecessary. She had the most gorgeous eyes.

She seemed to get thrown into his path with far too much regularity, and as she and her sister wormed their way into his social circle, he could only predict the frequency of their meeting would increase. Despite the rough manner he had seen her display, she could be soft, and charming – insults were delivered with a twinkle in her eye so that you could not help but forgive her for them. A smile curving on her lips made you forget any offense given.

He was trying very hard not to be attracted to her, but it simply was not working. Even when he was firm with himself, when he told himself not to yield to her siren's call, he was tempted by her eyes and drawn to her scent and fascinated by her supple, curvaceous form. Sometimes, he simply gave in.

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[1] A levels (Advanced levels) are the subject-based secondary school leaving qualification offered in England, Wales, and Northern Ireland as part of the General Certificate of Education. These are not compulsory, unlike GCSEs, however until the age of eighteen you have to stay in full-time education (which can be at a college instead of a sixth form) or start an apprenticeship or traineeship. You can also spend 20 hours or more a week working or volunteering, as long as you are also in part-time education or training. In Scotland, their equivalent to A levels are the Highers. Three is the usual number of A levels to take – particularly clever or academic people may take four, or even five.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N I have almost hit halfway through exam season, so I decided to reward myself by writing this chapter. Apparently I have no self control. The situation from chapter five is resolved – I hope you did not get your hopes up, though. This chapter sees the entrance of some familiar faces. When I gave a bit more time, the chapters will start to get longer, but I hope you enjoy this for now. Let me know what you think.

I could not publish without mentioning Manchester - my deepest condolences to anyone effected by the horrific attack. To target children is truly evil, and I know the people of Manchester to be some of the loveliest, liveliest people and my heart goes out to all of those who lost loved ones. Our thoughts and prayer are with you x

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" _I would rather you did not hate me for anything." Darcy's voice was deep and low. He took is hand off the steering wheel where it had been resting, and brushed a stay hair out of Elizabeth's face. His hand paused at the soft skin which had entranced him moments before reaching down to take her hand._

"Alright, Darcy. You know how to make things awkward, don't you?" Lizzie's tone was not sharp, but it was not warm either. She subtly moved her hand away from his, and angled her body towards the window, away from him. Darcy sighed, his brows furrowing in a familiar expression.

"I will just drive then, shall I?"

"Please."

The drive to Charlie's house was completed in silence. By the time they arrived, the tension in the car was palpable, and Darcy's face was stony. Nevertheless, he politely opened the door on her side to hand her the crutches, and made his elbow available to give assistance. Once she had been led to Charlie's house – the owner flung the door open with a grin at the first knock – Darcy muttered a low goodbye, and left her side. Their host took his place, ushering her in to introduce her to everybody and find her an appropriate perch.

Elizabeth saw Darcy not long after, through the window facing the front road. He was crouched down on the pavement, taking photographs of a street lamp from below, before he moved on to photographing the empty stretch of road. Charlie's sister Caroline, whom she had briefly been introduced to, joined her. Caroline's dress was an outrageous shade of orange and her lipstick matched. The neckline of the carroty monstrosity was making Lizzie slightly uncomfortable – she was worried some extra guests would be making an appearance, and Elizabeth had no particular wish to meet them.

"He is out there again, I see. Will is so talented like that – sometimes he sees photos that just _have_ to be taken. I wanted him to come out to the Caribbean to do a shoot for some of my models, but he said he found fashion photo-shoots _contrived,"_ Elizabeth got the impressions she did not understand that this was probably an insult, "he is just so connected to his art like that. It was a shame, because he has _such_ good fashion sense himself, which makes my think that he would have _such_ a good eye for it. But while it is _such_ a loss for the fashion world, he is just too talented not to be led by his lens. That is what he says he does, he 'follows his lens'. He does competitions and everything, he is just so good."

Lizzie behaved according to standard procedure for situations like this – smile slightly, nod politely in all the right places, and fervently which for the irritation to go away. Luckily, when Will disappeared from view, presumably to re-join the party inside, Caroline made a passing snide comment about her outfit and left with her nose in the air. _Well that was pleasant – when somebody shoved hero worship of Darcy up her backside, I think they left the stick behind._

The evening was enjoyable, with drinks flowing and conversation easy. Elizabeth had found herself seated in the open kitchen-living room, on a stylish and expensive looking ottoman. The company was very different to the sort she usually kept – which consisted mainly of scientists and engineering students – with musicians, language students and some of Charlies friends from the city. Elizabeth had spent most of the evening in conversation with the musicians studying for their diploma at a nearby music college. Part way into the evening, Denny stood up to get the front door, after receiving a text from his friend. Scott Carter leant forward to explain.

"We have this small-time band going on the side, and we invited one of the other band members here, though we weren't sure if he was going to make it. Charlie doesn't know him, but he's always been good about people bringing extra guests."

Elizabeth was not convinced by his casual invitation of someone Charlie did not know, but was intrigued by the mention of Denny and Scott's band. She enquired about the origin of the band, and they sort of music they played.

"This is a fun story," Scott had laughed, and hurried to explain, "Our bandmate George was in the army until a few months ago, but before he was released last year, he was stationed nearby. He was a member of the Band of the Queen's Division, which is part of the Corps of Army Music. [1] To perform, they wear full dress uniform, which is red. We met at a fancy-dress party, where Denny had gone dressed as a soldier in full red dress uniform. George came over to compliment it, and we've been friends since."

"And in honour of how we met, and of my previous profession, when we formed the band, we called it 'The Red Coats'." Elizabeth turned towards the source of the voice behind her. The man who had spoken was tall and handsome, with softly-curling, light-brown hair. He was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest – he was dressed far more casually than the other guests, but Elizabeth could not find it in herself to be disapproving. She could not blame the man for wearing jeans which made his backside look so delicious.

"You must be George?" she queried, deciding against rising to greet him, fearful that she would fall over.

"George Wickham, at your service," he pronounced, lifting her proffered hand, raising it to his lips for a soft kiss. "May I have the honour of learning the lady's name?"

"Does that work on all the other girls?" she asked, her tone cynical. Nevertheless, she was charmed by his old-fashioned manners. "I'm Lizzie Bennet."

George took a seat on one of the sofas across from her, and his bandmates settled back into their places. The light-hearted conversation continued for several minutes, as Lizzie got to know the men in front of her. The tranquillity was disrupted soon after, as Darcy re-entered the room from wherever he had been lurking. He noticed Elizabeth from the doorway and started to make his way towards her, when he caught a glimpse of her companion. At the same moment, George turned to see what she was staring at, and as his eyes met the piercing blue ones across the room, he stood up abruptly.

"Will!" George gulped. His face had suddenly gone very pale, and Elizabeth saw that the hand resting on his belt had begun to shake.

"Wickham," was Darcy's barely civil reply. The tall man stalked over from the doorway, until he had placed himself between Wickham and Elizabeth. She could no longer see the expression on his face, but any colour remaining in George's face, drained completely.

"Look Will," George stuttered, "I'm just…"

"Get out." Darcy had drawn himself up to his full – intimidating – height, as he had done the day she had confronted him about the photograph. Although she could not see it, his face was flushed a similar red. His voice did not raise above the volume of a harsh whisper, but his delivery was menacing, nonetheless. "Get. Out." With this, Darcy turned to stalk out of the room, and George collapsed back into his chair. Elizabeth was about to ask him to explain the confrontation, but he quickly stood, swiped his jacket from the back of the sofa, bid Elizabeth, Scott and Denny a hasty farewell, and fled.

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Elsewhere in the house, Darcy had finally found Charlie. He politely excused his friend from the group of ladies he was talking to, then dragged him into the nearest empty room.

"George Wickham is in your house – I would like to know who invited him, and how he managed to garner entrance. I do not imagine you were the one to invite him?" Darcy was as imperious as ever, although Charlie excused it once he heard the name of that scoundrel.

"I have no idea how he got in here, Will, and I will make sure he is escorted off the premises immediately. I can assure you I will find whomever is responsible for his presence, and I will make them understand it is never to happen again. Will this satisfy you?" Charlie's mien was as serious as Darcy's; he grasped his friend's shoulder firmly, before leaving in search of the rogue.

Charlie did not need to conduct a thorough search for Wickham – he was accosted by Lizzie Bennet as she stormed through the house.

"Darcy just came in here and made someone leave! George just left! What is going on Charlie? I have seen Darcy angry, but that was beyond reason."

Charlie was quick to quiet her with a shushing sound, and pulled her into the corner of the kitchen hidden from the rest of the room by the fridge and freezer. "I cannot give you details Lizzie, but George Wickham is to be avoided at all cost. It is not my place to share what he has done in the past, but you need to stay away from him." Lizzie had never seen her redheaded friend with such as stern bearing; Charlie's deep brown eyes were dark and serious, his lips pressed thin.

"Please, for your safely, keep him at a distance." Elizabeth was too taken aback by his uncharacteristic solemnity to challenge him, or to continue to question Darcy's behaviour as she had intended. Instead, she let him leave with a mere nod of assent. "Do you know how he got in?"

"Denny and Scott invited him – they said you have always been okay with people inviting a couple of extras. And it was Denny who got up to let him."

"Did they tell you how they know Wickham, or why he is in the area?" Charlie was brisk, and to the point. Elizabeth replied,

"They are in a band with him, but they didn't say what he is doing here, I just know that he got out of the army last summer or autumn, and he decided to stick around. Why?"

"We thought he had left the area." Charlie turned to leave.

"Who is we? You and Darcy?" She tried to keep from sounding demanding, but she did not succeed.

"Look Lizzie, it is not my story to tell okay. Just know that you need to keep away from Wickham." With that parting advice, Charlie gave her a firm look, and moved back into the full of the kitchen. His affable persona was back immediately, and within minutes he was asking after guests and refilling drinks, offering no indication of what had happened moments before.

Charlie took some time shortly after his conversation with Lizzie to inform Darcy of what had happened. He found his friend hidden away in the games room with a cue in his hand and the pool table set up, but with a vacant look on his face. As soon as he noticed Charlie however, he straightened up, his eyes much more alert.

"Did you find out what happened?" he demanded.

"A couple of the guys I invited are apparently friends with him – he never left the area, or if he did, he came back soon after – it seems they took advantage of my open 'bring someone' offer. I might have to stop saying that; it seems I cannot trust my friends to make good decisions. He left before I got to him – a shame, I would have liked to knock his teeth in – but expect some questions from Lizzie Bennet."

Darcy grimaced. "She saw my, er, confrontation with him. The woman is like a terrier, I cannot imagine she is going to let go of this one until she gets to the bottom of it." He rubbed his jaw, which suddenly smarted with ghost pain. "I get the impression that once she gets things between her teeth, she does not let go."

TBC…

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[1] The Band of the Queen's Division is actually stationed at RAF Henlow, in Bedfordshire – but Bedfordshire is next door to Hertfordshire, so for the sake of the plotline I am pretending it is in the area of the story. The Corps of Army Music is currently being restructured, to condense and merge the bands of various regiments, to be 'better suited to enable sustainable musical support to be provided to the Army and Defence supporting operations and defence diplomacy', but I think the Band of the Queen's Division still exists.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N In honour of the bank holiday (Brits, I hope you are enjoying the weather as much as I am) I took a break from my crazy revision/exam schedule to bring you another update. Despite how it seems, I do actually really care about my education, I am just loving writing this story!

Today we learn some more about Wickham, hear his tale of woe, and meet the rest of the Bennets. Let me know what you think, I love hearing from you x

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Elizabeth decided she was not going to let go of this – she wanted an explanation. Unfortunately, she had not seen Darcy, so had not had an opportunity to interrogate him, and Charlie had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about it. When she next spoke to Jane, she asked her to do some digging of her own – using her growing 'connections' – but Jane, being the usual angel she was, refused to ask.

The opportunity came a week later, when her ankle was healed enough for her to be up and about without crutches. After too long cooped up or hobbling about, she decided to splurge a little and take herself to the more high-end coffee shop in town – as a student, she was restricted to a tight budget, and she usually reserved it for alcohol. She was enjoying watching the people as they went about their business from her seat outside - there was presently a warm spell drifting through which had everybody, if not in short sleeves, at least taking their jumpers off - when a shadow fell across her table, and she turned to face the person now standing over her. It was George Wickham.

"Hi there, Lizzie. It is Lizzie, right? We met at Charlie's the other week." Elizabeth greeted him back. She wary of him after Charlie's warning – he was not a man to be so serious over nothing – but she was incredibly curious about the confrontation she witnessed between the man in front of her and William Darcy. Also, she considered herself a reasonably good judge of character, and she had not had any bad vibes off his so far. She invited George to take a seat at her table, and started to plan a way to turn the conversation towards the evening they met; it turned out she need not have worried, George did all the work for her.

"I am sorry you have to see that thing between me and Darcy the other night." His manner was pleasant, and his expression apologetic as he sat down across from her. "Do you know him well?"

"Darcy?" she questioned, "No, not particularly – we have only met a couple of times, although I did have to spend a night in his flat when I got a concussion, the same time I sprained my ankle. I stayed in his sisters room. Let's just say I do not think he is the most agreeable man on the planet."

"Did you get to meet Georgiana?"

"I did not, I understand she is away at her Aunt's. I take it you know the family well then?"

"I have not seen either Darcy for a year, but I once knew them very well. My father was the manager of Will's estate in Derbyshire, back when his father was still alive. I obviously grew up on the estate, and we were frequent playmates whenever the Darcy's were home – I was only a year older then him. The elder Mr Darcy died when Will was eighteen, although Mr Darcy had been ill for some time. At this point, it seemed that Will was relishing finally having total control of the property, with his father no longer there to look over his shoulder, and as a show of power he fired my father."

"That is terrible" Lizzy murmured, her cup of coffee frozen at her lips.

"It was worse. You see, I was never academically inclined, and struggled in the school atmosphere, and went to pieces during exams. As you might guess, I came out with only a few qualifications none of them very good, which made it hard for me to get a decent job after I left school. My dad managed to find me a job on the estate with one of the gardening teams, but when Darcy fired my dad, he kicked me out with him. I did not have any option by the join the Army."

"Gosh, that is awful. How could he be so callous?" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"He was always insensitive when we were younger, but it got worse when he finally took control of the Darcy fortune. He wasn't insensitive anymore, sometimes it felt like he was just heartless." George continued, "Joining the Army turned out to be the best decision I ever made – I eventually found my way into the Corps of Army Music, and I never looked back. But with the world looking so uncertain right now, when I was given the chance to leave last year, I took it. I did six years with them, but that was my limit."

"I'm not surprised you left, believe me, I understand only too well the consequences of war." George leaned forward, interested.

"I grew up on military bases – my mother was an Army medic, we lost her in Iraq, and my godfather is a Major in the Royal Army Medical Corps."

"I am sorry to hear about your mum," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand briefly. "I lost some good friends out in Afghan." She squeezed his hand in comfort, then let go. Charlie's warning to her had all but disappeared from her mind. They continued onto pleasanter topics – George's music, Lizzie's love of animals. Elizabeth was telling an amusing anecdote of her only term of ballet lessons (six year old Lizzie got frustrated that people kept telling her how to dance) when George interrupted her.

"You know, Georgiana Darcy was a wonderful ballet dancer." Elizabeth was somewhat irritated by his interruption, but was intrigued at the mention of the Darcy nobody seemed to talk much about. "She was incredible, up until last year she was dancing for the English National Youth Ballet. Unfortunately, last time I saw her, it had made her incredibly arrogant and stuck up – although that may have been Will's influence. It was sad, she used to be such a lovely little girl."

"Why did she stop dancing, do you know?"

"Oh, she had an injury of some sort, I think, but I happened after I saw her, so I don't know for certain. That may just be a rumour Will started, it would not surprise me if he stopped her, as a way to control her." Elizabeth was horrified that that could even be a possibility.

"Would he really do that? He is a bit disagreeable, but I never thought he would be _that_ bad."

"I think he might. Darcy does not lack the ability to make friends with those he decides are worthy. If he thinks you are rich or accomplished, beautiful or going places in the world, he is liberal and sincere and perhaps even affable. But to us mere mortals, I don't think his pride would ever let him be _nice_." They talked a little more after this, and ended their conversation with the usual pleasantries. George tried to hint at getting Lizzie's number, but the lady, having now remembered Charlie's cautioning, pretended not to understand. She had gotten the information she wanted, she did not need to risk any more.

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With a week left of the Easter holidays, Jane convinced Elizabeth to accompany her to see their father and his family. Jane would stay the weekend, and Lizzie would stay however long she could last. The Bennet home was in Didcot in Oxfordshire where Rupert Bennet was a secondary school English teacher at Didcot Girl's School, and Angelina Bennet was a hairdresser. During the years travelling around military bases, Rupert had given up his teaching job to stay at home with Jane and Lizzie. After the death of his wife, his relationship with the girls only grew stronger as the nuclear family banded together. It started to fall apart when he remarried just over a year later. Jane was a sweet girl who saw the best in everybody, so had not particular problem with her step-mother, other than the fact that she missed her mother. On the other hand, Lizzie was loud and brash, having grown up a true army brat. She climbed trees, got dirty, could start a fire without matches and could beat all the boys in a race. Her new stepmother hated it. Lizzie hated her right back.

As the new girls arrived one by one, first Mary, and later, Catherine and Lydia, Lizzie felt more and more isolated within her own family. When Jane left for London and her only ally was gone, Lizzie went to her father with a proposition. Her godfather had offered for her to go and live with him and his wife, and she had decided that then was the time to do it – before she got too stuck into her GCSE courses. Rupert was resistant at first, but she explained that Angelina's snide comments and casual neglect were becoming too much to tolerate any longer, and eventually her father capitulated. Her life was much better with her godfather, but her connection with her father had never been the same. Mr Bennet felt like Elizabeth had abandoned their relationship. What Lizzie did not point out was that she would not have had to leave if he had stuck up for her while she still lived with him and his spiteful wife.

But Elizabeth still loved her father, so when she climbed out the car in the driveway, she leapt into his arms immediately. He hugged her tight, before moving to embrace Jane as well. From just inside the porch, she heard a squeal, and Mrs Bennet ran out in her slippers to pull Jane away from her father into her bosom. Angelina ignored Lizzie. Lizzie ignored her back.

Making her way into the house, she located her youngest sisters first. Four year old Lydia and six year old Kitty were parked in front of the television, watching some inane children's programme. Elizabeth gave them both quick hugs, then carried on in search of Mary. She eventually found her in her bedroom, curled up on the bed with a book. Walking softly, Lizzie went in and closed the door behind herself, taking a seat on the bed.

"Hey there Mary, how are you?" Mary glanced up and closed the book, having only just noticed Lizzie was there.

"Hi Lizzie. I'm alright. Mum was screeching earlier about Jane coming home, so I came up here to hide, but this book was really good and I forgot the time." Mary put the book aside to give Lizzie a hug.

"Ooh, tell me about it," Elizabeth said as she budged Mary to the side, until they were sitting next to each other against the headboard. The conversation was light and easy as Mary enthusiastically described the plot of the book, and laughter ensued as Lizzie teased her for having a crush on the protagonist. As much as she hated her stepmother, Lizzie loved her little sisters. If she visited, she always made time to remind them of this.

Dinner was a tense affair. Angelina made shot comments in Lizzie's direction under the guise of imparting helpful advice, and her father did little to stop it beyond the occasional warning "Ange". Jane tried to relieve the tension with her usual smiles and redirections, but had to settle for pensively watching the non-confrontation. Mary kept her head down; Kitty and Lydia were oblivious.

Elizabeth escaped the next day to visit her Charlotte. They were at Uni together and their rooms were just down the hall form one another, but they had known each other since secondary school. While tucked in her parents' kitchen with cups of hot chocolate and marshmallows, Charlotte broke some news to Lizzie.

"You know I have been seeing someone since Christmas..."

"Ah yes, the infamous Boy, whom you will not give me details about, and will not let me meet." Lizzie's tone was airy, but it had been an area of contention between them for a while.

"Well, when I came home for the holidays, he came with me, and now we are engaged." Charlotte said this very quickly as though the pressure building behind the words was suddenly too much.

"Engaged?! But you have only been dating him since December. Who is he, anyway?"

"This is why I didn't want to tell you who he was – did you know your cousin came down to visit at Christmas?"

"You are engaged to Willy? Willy Collins?"

"He actually prefers Bill now, and yes we are engaged."

"When is the wedding?" Elizabeth was latching onto the wedding plans in the hope of getting the image of her best friend and cousin together out of her brain.

"We are planning it for early July, with a short honeymoon. I was hoping Lizzie, that you would be my maid of honour."

"Of course I will Charlotte, but, I mean, are you sure about this. You hardly know him, and I can tell you, he really is a bit weird."

"I know he has his oddities, but I love him. And anyway, happiness in marriage is a bit of luck and a lot of chance – you can know somebody for six years before you marry and they can still cheat on you, or you can know somebody a month and have the happiest married life imaginable. I have decided to seize the moment, and commit to the man I love, and I don't see anything wrong with that."

"It is your life and I am supportive of any decision you make, I just wanted to make sure you had thought about it properly. I would be honoured to be your bridesmaid, I assume this means I have to help with the planning." The conversation descended into wedding details, during which Lizzie tried not to broadcast her misgivings about the whole affair – she was mostly successful.

When Lizzie returned to her father's house, she was subjected to another stressful dinner, and decided to leave at the same time as Jane. She knew it would be boring back on campus with people still away for a few more days, and all of her work done, but she preferred that over the present torture. When they departed, there were hugs all around (except between Lizzie and Mrs Bennet) before Jane and Elizabeth piled into the car and were off. Jane did a big round trip to drop Lizzie at her halls, before driving down to London. Once her bags were dumped by her wardrobe and her shoes had been kicked off, Lizzie flopped face-down on to her bed, and sighed deeply. _God, I am glad that is over._

TBC…


	9. Chapter 8

A/N Some people thought Elizabeth should have heeded Charlie's warning, other people were glad she was still our Lizzie, and did not listen. Divided opinions… love it! One of the joys of writing is how differently everybody interprets things, and how everyone has a different view of how events should play out. Let me know what you think of this chapter, and enjoy x

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The summer term was extraordinarily stressful for Elizabeth. She was spending nine hours or more in lectures or the lab every weekday plus studying independently, her spare time was spent helping Charlotte plan her wedding with her infuriating cousin Willy, _sorry, Bill,_ and she was often hosting Jane in her tiny room whenever her sister had a day or two off. [1] Jane's budding romance with Charlie was blossoming. She would make the short drive up to Meryton for the weekends or any other time she had several consecutive days off, and the lovebirds would spend their time wondering about Meryton, taking about everything and nothing. Jane eventually got used to the expensive restaurants that Charlie favoured; Charlie learned to take Jane to niche coffee shops and casual restaurants. By the beginning of July, when wedding planning was reaching final stages – the church was booked, the reception venue was reserved, the dresses had been bought – Jane was no longer staying in Lizzie's tiny room, she was staying with Charlie at his house.

For the weekend of the wedding, the wedding party and some of the guests (including Jane) had booked into a hotel in Oxford, which was a twenty minute drive from the church in Didcot. The bride and groom had made the decision not to see each other the day before the wedding, so Elizabeth worked with the best man, Bill's friend Jacob, to keep the couple away from each other. Lizzie had organised a lovely spa day with Charlotte and the other bridesmaids - Charlotte's childhood best friend Mary King and her younger sister Maria - to keep them occupied, as well as afternoon tea at a fancy tea room in the heart of Oxford.

The wedding itself went off without a hitch. Charlotte looked stunning in her empire-waisted, ivory dress, and the bridesmaids were wearing a flattering shade of blue, in slightly different styles to suit each woman. _The groom left much to be desired,_ Elizabeth thought, _but there was nothing Charlotte could do about that._ The church was adorned with blue ribbons, pink and purple flowers and two exquisite arrangements of greenery and peonies either side of the alter. [2] The reception was held at the village hall, where the mood was lively and the good mood contagious. While she still had many doubts about Charlotte's marriage to her simpering cousin, she wished them joy was they were sent off in a hired Rolls Royce decorated with ivory ribbons, tin cans clattering behind it.

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The university year was over, and Lizzie had nowhere to go. Her godfather had offered her her old room back, but his wife's sickly mother was staying with them until they could find her a flat close to them, and she did not want to overwhelm her favourite family. As luck would have it, Charlie offered her a place at his house – he ignored all objections about her imposing, firmly convinced that having her there would delight Jane when she came to see him, and increasing Jane's happiness could only increase his own. They spent a happy fortnight together at the house, and Jane came up for the weekend, during which time a great deal of fun was had. Elizabeth presented Jane with a teasing gift she had made: a cut out of Jane in the pale pink gown she wore to Charlotte's wedding, stuck onto a picture of a throne draped in crimson silk, with a crown drawn in Sharpie on her head. On the back was written ''Princess Jane Bingley'. Jane stuttered, blushed and demurred – she attempted to get rid of it, but when Lizzie acted very hurt, she put it in the front segment of her handbag to placate her. It was soon forgotten about.

On the day that Jane returned to London, William Darcy came around. The excuse he gave was that his sister had three friends around for the day, and that he could not take any more squealing and grating, high-pitched giggling. Charlie offered him the refuge of his home, and Lizzie laughed at him.

"You couldn't cope with a couple of teenage girls for an afternoon?" she snickered. Darcy actually pouted.

"They had both Mean Girls films, and they had already turned my kitchen into a bomb site by making cookie dough – which they were planning to eat uncooked. Who does that? Who eats raw biscuit dough?" His face was contorted into an expression of outrage.

"You will find a lot of people do, Darcy, you can even order it as a pudding in restaurants. And surely they can't be that bad, just your usual giggly, slightly vapid teens?"

"My sister is not vapid, thank you. But they were making this chattering noise, like magpies, and one of her friends bought this whole bag of make up – I love my sister very much, and I would do anything for her, but I had to get out while I could. I do not understand teenage girls like you must." Charlie was becoming uncomfortable. Although the back-and-forth was not unpleasant, it was as close enough to an argument as Charlie could bare, so he interjected,

"Your sister is most charming, and I am sure I cannot imagine her being so bad you have to leave, but we are glad for your company nonetheless." The afternoon turned out to be a quiet one, despite the company. Darcy had some things to sort out for a business in London, Lizzie had some summer work to complete, and Charlie fluttered about, unable to settle on one activity for too long. Around teatime, he joined Lizzie and Will in the kitchen/lounge – where Darcy was sat on a stool by the counter and Lizzie had sunken into an overstuffed armchair, laptop perched on its arm – to skype his sister, setting up on the counter next to Will. After a couple a couple of rings, Caroline Bingley answered.

"Hiya Caroline, how is LA?" Caroline had a job to do with fashion, Lizzie was not quite sure what. She was introduced the woman at the party at which she had also met George, but had not spent long in conversation with her – she was too busy regaling the tales of her recent trip to Milan to a group of admirers.

"As balmy as ever. It that Will's shoulder I can see there? Hello Will." Caroline's tanned visage leaned closer to her computer camera, wearing only a pale purple strappy top.

"Caroline," Will grunted.

"Are you not going to come and speak to me, Darcy?" Caroline let out a tinkling laugh. "I suppose you are much too busy to talk to little old me."

"Not at all, Caroline, I am just in the middle of some business."

"Of course, of course. Is Georgie there with you?" Will gave Charlie a frustrated look out of the sight of the skype camera, so his friend answered for him.

"No, she is back at Will's flat having a girly afternoon with some friends. But Lizzie is here," Charlie told her, turning slightly to give Lizzie a grin.

"Lizzie who?"

"Lizzie Bennet, you met her at the party we had when you were just back from Italy. Elizabeth Bennet."

"Ah yes, the one on the crutches." Her tone was less than enthused.

"You will be pleased to know that her ankle has healed nicely." _For some reason, I doubt she cares._ Caroline turned the conversation back to Darcy's sister straight away.

"How is dear Georgiana doing, Will? When are her exams?" Will huffed, and closed his laptop, finally moving so he was within Caroline's sight. Caroline leaned forward in an attempt at casual seduction – she pressed her forearms under her breasts and affected a pout. The effect was almost painful.

"She has done all of her exams, we now have to wait until August for the results. She thinks she did well in most of them, though she did say the chemistry was really hard – that is the one she is anxious about because she wants to take it at A level." Will's tone was abrupt, but Caroline did not appear to notice.

"I am sure she did well, she is a very bright girl," she simpered, pushing her bottom lip out further.

"Mmm." Darcy's response was the definition of noncommittal. Out of sight, Lizzie was silently laughing to herself. _How oblivious can one woman be?_

"Well, if this was just a checking in call, I will be getting back to bed. It is only just after 8am here, and I was up late last night. Bye Charlie. Goodbye Will, give my love to Georgiana, won't you." She blew him a kiss, nodded vaguely to her brother and the screen went blank.

Lizzie rose form her seat to get a drink of water, and laughed again at Darcy, who was slumped over with his head on the counter groaning. "You could just tell her you do not care for her 'charms', and she might leave you alone." She patted him on the shoulder with faux sympathy, then resumed her position on the armchair, still giggling. Charlie looked confused.

"Why would Will need to tell her he wasn't interested?"

"Because she is veeerrry interested," Lizzie replied, rolling the rs exaggeratedly.

"Caroline? No, she knows Will is not dating at the moment, why should she try anything?"

"Because as far as she is concerned, Darcy is one hunkin' chunk of rich, hot _biology_ student, with the whole tall, dark and handsome thing going, and she wants a piece of _that_."

"Lizzie, there are some things a brother never wants to hear in reference to their sister, and that is one of them," Charlie cringed.

"You think I am good looking?" Darcy interrupted.

"You've gone off topic, mate, I'm talking about what Caroline thinks. Also, I have eyes. But I think Anthony Head is hot, so I am not a good judge of anything on the looks scale." [3]

"But you do think I am handsome?"

Elizabeth was spared having to answer as her phone rang, and a photo of Charlotte appeared on the screen. "Charlotte my lovely, my dear newlywed best friend, I should leave the room to answer this in private…" Charlotte protested from the other end of the phone that she did not want to interrupt if she had company, while Elizabeth signalled to Darcy and Charlie that she had to take the call elsewhere.

"How are you, my dear? Enjoying married life? How was the honeymoon?" Elizabeth asked as she made her way up to the room she was staying in. "Do not give me details!" she rushed to add.

"I had a wonderful time Lizzie, the Seychelles was absolutely gorgeous, and the weather was wonderful – I got a lovely tan."

"I am so glad, I know Willy, sorry, Bill, is not the most romantic soul on the planet, but by the tone of your voice I would say you had a great time."

"I was the one too book it – Bill is very good with number and spreadsheets and all, as an accountant, but he is not that great with general organisation. So I got to choose the destination; Bill was content wherever I wanted to go. So far, I am enjoying married life very well." Charlotte honestly sounded happy, and that was all Lizzie could want for her best friend.

"I was calling to ask you something. I want you to come and stay with us for a few weeks in August."

"What? Charlotte, you just got married, you can't want visitors. There will be things going on that I don't want to even think about my cousin Willy doing, let alone accidently walking in on."

"Honestly, Lizzie, I get scared of what goes on in that head of yours. And it will be no imposition – I am the one extending an invitation, remember. How does the last two weeks of August sound? Bill's – and my – house is absolutely beautiful, it is set just on the edge of the grounds of the estate Bill works for, and the scenery is stunning. They don't call Kent 'the garden of England' for nothing." [4]

"I would love to see you, but you are newlyweds, why don't we just wait until the beginning of term? We could go out for a fancy meal together or something, splurge a little. I have got this big catering gig for most of the rest of the holidays, between the wages and the tips, I should be nicely lubricated for the beginning of term."

"That is one of the other things I wanted to talk to you about, Lizzie. I am not coming back in September." Lizzie lost it.

"What? What do you mean you aren't coming back?!" Lizzie's voice was screechy and loud, but through her outrage she did not care.

"I am not returning to Meryton."

"Is it the journey? Surely Bill can still travel up at the weekends like he has been doing?"

"He doesn't want to keep doing that, and I don't want him to either. His job is time-consuming, and finding the time to come up was very stressful for him. Anyway, we are thinking of starting a family." Charlotte kept her tone even and reasonable; nevertheless, frustration began to creep between her words.

"Have you lost your mind?! Starting a family? Charlotte, you are twenty years old, you are one year into a good degree that you are doing really well at, and you are going to give it up to have a baby with my snivelling cousin Willy?"

"I don't expect you to understand, Elizabeth," Charlotte's voice had changed as though a switch had been flicked – the tone was glacial. "I love my husband, and we made this decision together. You don't get it because you never saw a functional family with parents who work together, and you never learnt what it is to compromise for those you love."

"I didn't get to see a family work together because my Mum was blown up! I am sorry if that makes my childhood so different from yours you think I can't understand, but you know it is not my fault my Mum was killed and my Dad married a bitch." There was a knock on the door, and Charlie opened it, a concerned look on his face. He started to make his way towards her when he noticed the tears streaming down her face, but she waved him away and turned her back to him. She heard him sign in distress, but the door clicked shut moments later.

"I think it best that we end this conversation, don't you?" Charlotte hung up the phone without waiting for Lizzie's response.

TBC….

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[1] Study estimations are based on my brother's experiences of Chemical Engineering at Imperial College, London.

[2] I planned the wedding to happen in All Saint's Church in Dicot. It is a quintessential English church with a lovely churchyard.

[3] Anthony (Stewart) Head, played Rupert Giles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Uther Pendragon in Merlin, among many other things. And votes on his attractiveness are up to the reader…. I am not saying anything….

[4] Kent does get called 'the garden of England'. I spent quite a long time living there… most places really aren't that special. There are a few pretty spots – I lived for a while on the North Downs, which are an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (an area designated for conservation because of its national importance) and around there is stunning. Hastings Country Park on the Fairlight hills is also worth a visit if you are in the area. That said, most of Kent is no more special than anywhere else in the UK.


	10. Chapter 9

A/N Only one more week of exams… I can't wait to be free! This chapter is the introduction to some of our most beloved and most hated characters – I had so much fun writing it.

Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter, I love hearing your thoughts. Let me know what you think of this one, and enjoy x

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Elizabeth did not speak to Charlotte for several weeks. This was difficult for the both of them – since they were teenagers, they had rarely gone a few days without at least speaking on the phone for a few minutes most days. Charlie was aware that she was upset, although he did not pry for a reason, so spent most days trying to cheer her up. They went on picnics, they played each other on Charlie's games console, Charlie taught Lizzie how to play pool. Darcy had left to spend the summer with his sister at their estate, and Caroline was still in the US, so their only interruption to the fun was Jane, who was hardly an interruption at all. Lizzie had showcased her aptitude in the kitchen while preparing a fabulous dinner of the three of them; Charlie had showcased his absolute uselessness at even boiling water.

At the end of July, Lizzie had received a phone call from Charlotte. They both apologised to the other unreservedly, and the previous invitation was reissued, and received with pleasure. Their friendship meant too much to them for one – admittedly vitriolic – argument separate them. The friends agreed to put the fight behind them, and it was not mentioned again.

Lizzie said goodbye to Charlie with fond regret. Over the month and a half that they had spent as housemates, they had become good friends, and she would miss seeing his mop of ginger hair every morning as he greeted her blearily over a steaming cup of coffee. The day that she gathered all of her things, which had managed to spread to ever corner of the house, and packed them up, ready to leave, she had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek earnestly.

"Thank you for letting me live here, Charlie, I do not know what I would have done if you had not," she declared.

"I know what would have happened, I would not have eaten nearly so well, that is what." Charlie smile bashfully, but embraced her back, before picking her up by the waist and swinging her around. "When you get back, I will have to take you and Jane out for a meal, just the three of us. Or maybe I could invite Will as well?"

"I doubt Darcy would want to spend an evening with me in a place he could not politely escape, and there is no way I want to be a third wheel to you two if I cannot wear leggings." Lizzie giggled while Charlie looked confused.

"Why would Will not want to spend time with you? I thought you got along with him?"

"Yeah right. Haven't you noticed how whenever we are in the same room he just glares at me the whole time?"

"Not at all. He often seems quite chatty with you."

"That is Darcy being chatty? I don't want to know how bad it can get when he is being morose then, the silence must be painful." Charlie just shook his head at her, gave her another hug, and they parted with final goodbyes. Lizzie climbed into Jane's car, which she was borrowing for her adventure down to Kent – Jane was working flat out for the rest of the summer and would not need it for visiting Charlie – and was off.

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The house Charlotte and Bill lived in was an old tenant cottage which had been extended several times over the years. The roof had an uneven silhouette and the original part of the house was built in the eighteenth century with burnt-red bricks which had originally been whitewashed – the effect was charming and rustic. At some point, two wisteria trees had been planted against the front walls, either side of the porch, and they had grown and encompassed the front of the house, until the windows were peeping out from behind foliage. Lizzie was visiting too late in the year to catch it in full bloom, but there were a couple of tenacious purple flowers still clinging to the branches. The path to the front door was edged by beds full of asters, dahlias and forget-me-nots. Across the garden, against a low wall, sunflowers were flowering, lighting up the garden with their cheerful yellow smiles.

The door flung open and Charlotte came rushing out, wrapping her arms around Lizzie in a tight embrace.

"I have missed you Lizzie."

"I have missed you too Charlotte. I just parked out front, is there somewhere you need me to move the car too?"

"You should be alright for now, but later you can take it round the back – the driveway sort of loops around to the rear of the house."

"This place is unbelievable, Charlotte, I think I might actually understand why you did not want to leave, now. The whole garden is just fantastic."

"And there is an even bigger garden behind the house. The gardener from the main house comes one afternoon a week to help look after it, and there are several footpaths that run nearby through the estate, so I feel like I am living a life of luxury." Charlotte took Lizzie's arm and led her into the house. It had the slightly musty smell of old houses, but Lizzie thought it just added to its charm.

"Tell me more about this house – I think I might be in love."

"It was built around 1750 as a house for a large family of tenants. They worked the estate, which at the time had enormous grounds and a large farm, and some of them worked up at 'the house', the Manor, which is called Rosings. A lot of the original land has gone, it was sold off between the world wars, when the landed gentry lost a lot of its money, and all that is left of the estate is the Manor house, 200 acres of parkland and oak woodland, and several of the old tenant houses, like this one. The other cottages are rented out, with the bit of garden attached to the house – this one is a bit special, because though it is legally rented and everything, we get it for less as part of the package with Bill's job.

"Bill is the accountant here; he works directly for Lady Catherine, who owns the place."

"She makes you call her _Lady_ Catherine?" Elizabeth asked, incredulous.

"She is an old traditionalist, I just go along with it because it means I have access to this place. She is the daughter of an Earl – one of the few to keep all title, land and money in the great sell-off – and she still clings to it. By the sound of it, her husband wasn't the most wholesome sort, and while he has been gone for a while, I do not mind indulging her. She really is quite a character, I expect you will have a right laugh when you meet her."

"Gosh, can't wait," Lizzie drawled drolly, "Stuck up, superior aristocrat, just my cup of tea"

"Shh, Liz, she is not that bad. Come on, let me show you to your room."

Elizabeth was ushered to her room, which was decorated delightfully in yellow and green tones, with a large sash window overlooking the back garden. The view stretched beyond the boundary wall, into the parkland, and that evening at dusk she spend a long while watching a group of fallow deer making their way across the park.

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Elizabeth's introduction to Lady Catherine de Bourgh was interesting, to say the least. She had just come back from a long hike on one of the footpaths through estate. Her jeans were dusty, her hair was windswept, she felt sticky with sweat.

"Elizabeth, where have you been?" Her cousin was rushing across the garden to confront her at the gate. His arms swung oddly at his sides, his elbows pointing outwards, and his feet turned in as he ran. "We were invited to Lady Catherine's for afternoon tea, and if we do not leave right this instant we are going to be late, and Lady Catherine abhors tardiness."

"And I was going to get told about this when?" Bill carried on as though without interruption.

"You do not have time to change, you will have to go as you are. You should have made sure you were here in time to get ready."

"I would have done, if somebody had _told_ me I needed to be." Bill ignored her completely. He grasped her shoulder firmly and pushed her away from the house, towards the driveway.

"Alright, firstly, do not do that again," she said, shaking his hand off contemptuously. "Second, I need to change, I am gross."

"Lady Catherine thinks worse of lateness than she will of your clothing – she does not mind the distinction between herself and the lower classes to be made apparent through apparel. She only issued the invitation an hour ago, we must make haste." With that, Lizzie was hurried to the car where Charlotte was already seated on the driver's side, and bundled into the back.

When they reached the manor house, they were led through a large hall, which had an enormous staircase with carved ebony banisters and an imposing portrait of a severe-looking man with sideburns hanging directly facing the entrance. From here, they were led by a young lady in a stereotypical black and white maid's garb through to a formal sitting room. It had tall, arched windows, framed by thick, draping fabric in deep crimson and purple; the soft furniture was a pale green which clashed horribly and looked very uncomfortable. Seated on an overstuffed settee and a grandiose wing-back chair were two ladies. On the sofa was a sylphlike girl with very little colouring; her hair was pale and beige – her skin was a similar washed-out tone. On the armchair, a thick-set lady of increasing years was balanced, her back uncomfortably straight and her chin set unnecessary high, so that she saw the world down the bridge of her nose.

"Collins, good, you are here. You were walking the fine line between right on time and unbearably late. I cannot abide people who are late. It shows an absolute lack of breeding."

"Of course I would never be late, Lady Catherine," Bill simpered. _I wasn't really his biggest fan to_ begin _with,_ Lizzie thought, _but this a new level of urgh I am not sure I am ready for._

"I was speaking to one of the other ladies at the gardening association just a few days ago, I told her: 'tardiness is unbearable, and shows an absolute lack of breeding'. I said 'I never allow anybody in my employ to be late, it is not something I will tolerate, and I advise other to do the same'. You would think with all the looking at phones people do these days, they would learn how to look at the time, and yet there are people who are chronically late. It is reprehensible, to say the least. They need a reliable watch, and a good dose of respect for people who have things to do with their time.

"You informed me you would be bringing your guest, this woman is she?"

"'Fraid not, your _Ladyship,_ they picked me up from the side of the road as they drove here." Lady Catherine's features contorted in outrage.

"Only kidding, I am their guest. Lizzie Bennet, are your service." She stuck her hand out jauntily, not expecting it to be received. She was not disappointed – Lady Catherine pulled her nose even further into the air and huffed in disgust.

"What are you wearing, girl? Did your mother not teach you how to enter society with some measure of civilisation?" Elizabeth gasped a laugh, before she realised the question was not rhetorical.

"Wait, you actually want an answer? Before I do that, I am just going to address the 'girl' thing – I am over the age of eighteen, therefore I am not a girl. I will do lady, or woman, or even female adult if you are trying to be obtuse, but a 'girl' I am not. I will, for the sake of 'civilisation', give you the benefit of the doubt this time, and assume that you thought I was underage. Just don't do it again." Elizabeth smiled to soften the blow; Lady Catherine's face was slowly turning an interesting shade of puce.

"To answer the question of what I am wearing – I am dressed for a hike, which I was doing for three hours before I was kidnapped and brought here. A note for you: if you want guests all spruced up and shiny faced, give them more than an hour's notice for summons, sometimes, they might be busy with other things." Charlotte had moved so she was by one of the windows, and out of the sight of Lady Catherine. Her fist was practically stuffed into her mouth as she strained to keep her laughter hidden. Next to her, Bill was frantically wringing his hands as sweat began to bead on his forehead. He looked as though he might faint at any moment.

"And to conclude on the subject of my mother – no she did not teach me to be civilised. Our bonding activities included teaching me how to light a fire without matches, how to do basic field medicine and how to 'be the best'. [1] But unfortunately, she got blown up in Iraq before we got to the 'civilisation and society' bit. Whoops." Lady Catherine looked as though she might explode, but her mouth was hanging open and no words were coming out.

"This was kind of sprung on me, so I am just going to take a wander outside to cool down, and then we can do the whole cucumber sandwich and unpronounceable French pastry thing. Thanks." She shot a wink in Charlotte's direction, who by now had tears streaming down her face – it only served to send her into further fits of silent laughter – and turned on her heels. Pausing to ask directions for another unimaginatively dressed maid in the corridor, she made her way outside. As she inhaled the sweet, warm, afternoon air, she heard a slow clap form behind her.

"That was possibly the greatest thing I have ever seen." The man emerging from the doorway looked about thirty five, with eyes slightly wide set and a chin a little too large for the rest of his face. Nevertheless, the large grin on his mouth looked at home there, and the laugh lines starting to form only accentuated the twinkle that lit his eyes.

"You mean with the great Lady?" The gentleman nodded. "How did you see it?"

"I came into the room from behind you, and you didn't notice me as you left."

"Ah. Okay, that makes sense. I have this unfortunate ability to never hold my tongue, and it always comes out the worst time. I hope I have not got Charlotte into trouble."

"Charlotte would be the other lady in the room – the one that was in a full-blown laughing fit? I am sure she will be alright. My Aunt is not without some mercy."

"She is your aunt, oh God, she is your aunt. I am so sorry, I was just overwhelmed, this visit was sprung on me when I was not prepared, and your aunt, well, she needs some preparation. Also, alcohol."

"Do not worry about it, all the points you made were quite valid, and made with considerable flair – for which I applaud you." The man resumed his clapping, more vigorously this time. When he stopped, he added, "I am sorry about your Mum, by the way."

"It is fine, I have had long enough to develop those 'coping strategies' psychologists like you to have. Now we are getting deep - perhaps an introduction is in order?" she questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"Richard Fitzwilliam" he introduced, extending a large hand.

"Lizzie Bennet." They exchanged a firm handshake, and Elizabeth decided she like Richard Fitzwilliam very much.

TBC…

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[1] 'Be The Best' is the official motto of the British Army.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N Just a reminder – if your review as a guest, I cannot respond. And I like to answer your questions!

All exams are over, so I rewarded myself with a longer chapter than usual. I am glad so many people like the last chapter, it was great fun to write. It gets a little horsey here, but it is not overly technical. Let me know what you think of this one.

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Elizabeth and Richard made their way back into the house, and found the group had moved from the formal parlour to a large conservatory off the side of the house, where tea and light cakes had been arranged on an elaborate, white-painted metal table under an orange tree. The chairs were also white metal, with unique, hand-sewn cushions on each. Lizzie took her place at one of the empty seats, on a dark green cushion decorated with tiny moon daisies.

"You have finally come back, I see," commented Lady Catherine. "Richard, it was rude of you to appear and then leave like that, you did not give me the opportunity to introduce you to my guests." Richard took a seat next to Lizzie and shot her a grin.

"Indeed Aunt, but I did garner an introduction from the delightful Miss Bennet." Lady Catherine sniffed haughtily. Richard rose to shake the hands of Bill and Charlotte, whom he had not met before, then returned to the seat by Lizzie. Lady Catherine began her interrogation.

"How old are you, Elizabeth? You speak to decisively too be less than twenty five."

"Wow, okay, so I look like a teenager but talk like I am old, brilliant." Lady Catherine glared at her. "I am twenty one, actually." [1]

"And your education? It is my belief that until a woman can secure a husband to support her, she should endeavour to get the best education she can. Did you attend finishing school?"

"Let's start with – I am not trying to catch a husband, especially one who would make me dependent on them, I am getting a higher education because that is what I always wanted to do. And I am in my first year studying Chemical Engineering at the University of Meryton, but I did not attend finishing school, cause, you know, nobody does."

"I attended a finishing school in Switzerland with my sister. It is common place for ladies of high breeding to attend such fine establishments – my daughter Anne would have done so if her health had permitted it, unfortunately she had to stay with me near London to receive the best care." The beige lady from the parlour, who was now hunched over with a handkerchief in her weak grip, coughed. It was the first sound Elizabeth had heard her make. _That must be Anne,_ she thought _, apparently that is a close to speaking as she gets._

"What of your family? You said your mother is deceased, presumably your father had the good sense to remarry."

"He did remarry – I got three younger sisters out of the deal, and that is pretty much all I want to say about it."

"You are one of four?

"Five, actually, I have a sister nearly four years older than me, Jane."

"Hmmm." Lady Catherine decided to redirect her attention to Bill, as she began asking him questions on the latest task she had set him. Richard leant over to Lizzie, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry about my Aunt, sometimes she resembles a terrier – when she gets her teeth around something, she does not let go."

"It is fine, I can deal with stuffy old ladies. But I was brought up around and by the military, so I never got good at, well, tact."

"I like your approach. Have ever considered the police force? I know you are in the middle of a high-faluting degree, but your forthrightness would come in handy, particularly out on the streets."

"I don't really think I am made for the police. You are an officer?

"I am a Superintendent with Gangs and Organised Crime, which is a specialist unit within the Metropolitan Police. Specifically, I am with Specialist, Organised & Economic Crime. When taking down money launderers and fraudsters, it helps that you were at Harrow with them or their kids." [2]

"Oooh, and you call me high-faluting. I should be honoured to be in your presence, I am sure. But excuse me if I am not impressed – my childhood best friend's father is now the Commander Field Army, and when you have seen someone who became one of the most senior officers in the British Army with a banana and honey face mask on that we made, you kind of lose all awe for the powerful. And frankly I never had any awe for the filthy, stinking rich."

"You made Lieutenant General William Golding put on a face mask?" Richard sounded incredulous.

"To be fair, he was a brigadier at the time – it was my best friend's seventh birthday, and we were doing all these homemade spa treatments, steaming out faces with scented water, making scrubs out of sugar and oil, you can imagine the mess we were making. We had made this big pot of honey and mashed banana mask, so we made him sit with this mush on his face for twenty minutes – I still have the photos somewhere, I am keeping them for blackmail."

"I met him during an investigation, we needed military cooperation at the top, I cannot imagine him submitting to that. He is an Army man through and through, very manly-man, tough guy."

"What can I say, he loves his daughter," Lizzie laughed.

"Tell me about Uni," Richard asked, "You are at Meryton, you said?" Elizabeth relied in the affirmative. "My cousin is there doing Biology – do you know Will Darcy?"

"I do know him, yes. I stayed with Charlie Bingley for over a month – seeing a lot of Darcy was an inevitability."

"I like Charlie, he is a nice guy. Did you meet Georgie as well?"

"No, I am afraid she has hit the age when hanging out with your brother and his friends is no longer how you want to spend your holidays. I heard she was going on some school trip soon, when is she leaving, do you know?"

"It is a geography trip to Iceland, as sort of reward for the students who studied geography and made it through the exams. Will actually dropped her off at the airport yesterday, you will be pleased to hear he is travelling down today to join us." _Pleased. That is one word for it._ Elizabeth was not excited about the prospect of more dark looks and judgemental stares. She was sure that was all he had done when he had come around to Charlie's – he had probably been judging her for not having people to live with during the holidays.

The afternoon at Rosings ended with a sigh of relief from Elizabeth. She had enjoyed meeting Richard, but Lacy Catherine had subjected her to another interrogation, and Lizzie wanted to get out before the questions got even more personal, or William Darcy arrived.

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Elizabeth did not encounter anybody from Rosings until a few days later. She was out hiking on another of the footpaths which ran across the parkland, when she encountered Richard and Darcy on horseback. Richard was atop an elegant grey, while Darcy was riding a striking chestnut with a wide blaze and three white socks. As the approached, Darcy eased his mount to a halt and slid out of the saddle, while Richard remained astride.

"Elizabeth," Darcy greeted as he led his horse towards her, "Richard said you were staying nearby, it is good to see you." Lizzie did not feel like retuning the sentiment, but felt she could not be rude, so jumped straight into a question.

"Who is this handsome fellow, then?" She asked, extending her hand to allow the horse to have a sniff.

"This is Aethon – although he just gets called Noodles around the stable."

"Aethon? Very clever, it is a two in one, your doing or your Aunt's?" [3]

"His proper name was my doing, he was actually bred at my estate and brought down here, but someone at the stables started calling him Noodles – heaven knows why – and it stuck." Lizzie decided not to be irritated by the fact that not only did he own an _estate,_ but that he _bred horses_ on it. Turning to Richard she inquired,

"And who is this beauty?"

"This is Pepper. She used to be darker when she was younger – she is getting lighter in her old age."

"An old girl, are you?" Lizzie cooed as she stroked the grey's sooty muzzle.

"She was my sister's first proper horse, when she graduated from ponies. We retired her here, but Richard like to get her back under the saddle when we visit." Darcy told her. Lizzie was very excited at the idea of stables, and asked if she would be allowed to visit.

"I lived near Windsor not long after my Dad remarried, and there would be occasions when the Household Cavalry would parade for special occasions. I used to be obsessed – my Dad got me lessons in the hope that it would put me off… it did not at all. My Godfather loaned me a gorgeous bay Irish Draught-Thoroughbred cross when I was a teenager, but his owner sold him on when I was in sixth form." A trip to the stables was organised for the next day - Elizabeth guessed that while they visited their Aunt out of a sense of duty or obligation, her company and conversation were not highlights of the trips.

Not expecting to be riding during her trip to see Charlotte, Elizabeth had not packed any jodhpurs, so she dressed in a pair of old, soft jeans – Richard had offered to find a pair of riding boots at the stable, he said there was a pile of old boots in the corner of the tack room that had been building for years. She decided to walk over to the big house from the cottage. Charlotte had offered to drive her, but her friend was not interested in seeing the horses, 'terrible, tall things' she had called them, and Lizzie had not wanted to put her out.

As she was pointed towards the yard, she was sure she had fallen in love. It was a barn complex, with stalls running down either side - the tack room was at the far end. Adjacent to the barn was a covered riding school, and next to that was an open area set up with show jumping equipment.

"What size feet have you got?" she heard Richards voice call from out of sight in the tack room.

"Five. Where is Darcy?" Richard emerged with a grubby but sturdy looking jodhpur boots.

"There should be a hard hat in there that fits you, as well. Darcy is out catching his horse. He has this thing about bringing in, grooming and tacking up himself – he says it is important for him to do the little things with courtesy if he is them going to sit on the horse's back and ask it to do things. Me, I don't mind the stable hands doing everything for me," he said with a self-deprecating smile.

This surprised Elizabeth, because it was an attitude she had – that you treat a horse with all your respect and kindness on the ground before you get in the saddle – and she had not expected the same form a man as arrogant and superior as Darcy.

"Actually, I was hoping to do the same thing, if you can show me which horse I am riding."

"Your horse is not out grazing, he is already in, but you can finish grooming him and tack him up if you like. Will asked for Sullivan to be brought in for you – he said that as you say you are a reasonably experienced rider, you enjoy heading out on him." Richard let her back up the length of the barn to a large stall. A black head with a small white star popped out over the door. Elizabeth's jaw dropped.

"He must be what, sixteen-three?" [4]

"Seventeen hands exactly," Richard smirked, "He is a Thoroughbred-Friesian cross – he's got some fire in his belly but he is very well trained." Elizabeth gaped.

"His shoulder is above my head. Darcy has never seen me ride before, what makes him think this is a good idea?" A voice came from behind her. Darcy had entered the barn, leading the chestnut from yesterday's meeting behind him.

"I have the utmost confidence in your abilities. I saw how you handles yourself around the horses yesterday, and you say you spent a lot of time with them as a youth – I am sure you can manage. Just let him know that you can confidently guide him, and he won't feel the need to take matters into his own… hooves." Darcy's face was entirely serious, but Elizabeth was sure this was a ploy to test her.

"You want to prove I was bragging yesterday when I said I really knew what I was doing in a saddle, don't you?" Darcy began to shake his head, but Lizzie interrupted him. "You should know, Darcy, that my courage only rises with every attempt to intimidate me - not only are Sullivan and I going to get along quite nicely, I am going to ride the pants off you." Darcy's eyes darkened, and his mouth curved into roguish smirk. From across the barn, Richard snickered as pulled off his yard boot to put on his long riding boots. "For God's sake, do you men never think of anything else?!" As Lizzie huffed and let herself into Sullivan's stall, she missed Will mutter to himself,

"I would _not_ mind _that_."

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Several days later Elizabeth was chatting to Charlotte over a late breakfast, after Bill had left for work.

"Are you sure you don't mind me going up to the main house again, Charlotte? I am being an awful guest, leaving you so much."

"And I am being an awful host – I did not plan for any of these job applications to be any success, and yet all these interviews come at once. You spent all day alone yesterday while I was in Maidstone, at least if you are out with William and the Superintendent I know you have company."

"If you are sure," Lizzie replied with a sigh, "I just know that I am going to be gone soon, and term will start and you will have a new job and I just know that we will hardly get to see each other. I feel like I should be here waiting for you to get back so I can spend every spare moment you have with me."

"And _I_ would much rather you were off having fun. I know you missed that horse of yours when it went, and while I will never understand the love you have for perching on the back of an enormous beast and racing about precariously, I know that you loved being back in the saddle. Enjoy yourself today, especially enjoy the company. William totally has the hots for you, I think he might ask you out soon."

"That is not going to happen. He thinks I am good looking, but stupid. I am not going out with anyone who just wants me for my looks – also, he has an odd obsession with my eyes, let's not feed that, shall we?"

"I think he like you more than just 'spending time horizontal' likes you. When you guys came back here the other day, he was really interested in everything you were saying, and I don't think he was doing it just to get into your knickers, he actually cared what you thought about stuff."

"I can't see it. But Richard is a lot of fun, so I don't mind putting up with Darcy's moodiness and brooding looks." The women finished all of the pancakes they had made, and while Charlotte went upstairs to get ready for her job interview, Lizzie pulled on her borrowed riding boots and started up the lane towards the stable. When she arrived, she found that the horses had already been tacked up and were waiting patiently, tethered. Sullivan's black coat were gleaming in the sun and she could see that his hooves had recently been oiled. Richard emerged from the stables carrying two hard hats.

"This is the one you borrowed last time," he said, extending his right arm, "Are the boots still fitting alright?" Lizzie told him that they were fine, as she clipped on her hat and untied her horse. The plan was a gentle hack out, because the weather forecast predicted a hot day and between Sullivan not liking the heat and the riders not wanting to be sweating in the saddle, a quite path through the woods was planned.

As they entered the woodland path, Darcy pulled his horse up slightly, until he was level with Lizzie.

"Despite how much you worried to begin with, you handle him very well." Darcy kept his gaze directly in front of him.

"Thanks." They continued in silence for a while.

"Have you thought about getting a horse of your own?"

"Darcy, not all of us own estates and breed horses and have too much money to count."

"If horses mean that much to you, would your parents not help you support one?"

"If you recall, Darcy, it was my godfather who loaned my horse for me – my father had nothing to do with it. I barely have enough time to study and earn some money, it would not be fair to the animal if I did get one, I simply do not have the time." There was another stretch of silence.

"What if you had somebody who could look after your horse during term time, and then you could spend your holidays with them. The horse, that is."

"Like here? That is quite a way to travel just to see my horse."

"Not here, necessarily – I expect the livery fee my Aunt Catherine would charge would be extortionate – but somewhere else. If you found someone with some land, and a place to stay as well – with the railway system, or the motorways, few places would be too far for holidays, as long as you could stay there." Ahead of them, Richard broke into a trot on the bay he was riding, and called back to them,

"There is long clearing ahead where the ground isn't too hard, who fancies a race?" Lizzie tossed Darcy a grin as she gathered her reins, and urged Sullivan first into a trot, then a canter. Will took a moment to appreciate the fire in her eyes (and the view of her behind hovered over the saddle) before pushing his mount on.

TBC…

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[1] I know Lizzie is still twenty when she meets Lady C in the book, but in my head world for this story I have given Lizzie the fictional birthday of May 16th, which means that by the time we get the August, which is when I have set 'Rosings', she is twenty one.

[2] Harrow School is a private boarding school for boys. It was founded in 1572, and is one of the most expensive independent (non-state funded) schools in the UK. Old Harrovians include British Prime Ministers Winston Churchill and Robert Peel, as well as several members of the British royal family, lots of foreign royalty, three Nobel Prize winners, Lord Byron, singer James Blunt and actor Benedict Cumberbatch… to name a few.

[3] The ancient Greek word aithôn (which gets written in English as Aethon) means 'burning', 'blazing' or 'shining': reference to his blaze. It can also denote the colour red-brown: reference to his colour. It is also the name of several horses owned by Roman and Greek mythological figures.

[4] Horses are measured in hands: one hand is four inches which is about ten centimetres. A horse that is sixteen-three (sixteen hands three inches) is 170 cm or five foot four, and a horse that is seventeen hands is nearly five foot seven


	12. Chapter 11

A/N Some of you are worried about 'Hunsford'… the AU is here, and will be continuing for a while, but hang in there, everyone gets their moment. Remember, just because Lizzie is abrasive and brash and wears a lot of her issues openly, does not mean on the inside she is not still our Elizabeth. And just because Will learned to put on a good show, does not mean he is not hiding things, nor does it mean he does not have issues of his own. Let me know what you think x

Karen: Shh! Don't tell! Well, not exactly, but you will have to wait and see – have some patience, I'm saving that one for a special day.

Guest: I am glad I didn't come across an ignoramus, that is what every writer is going for x there aren't enough good horsey stories out there, in my (animal-crazy) opinion!

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A couple of day until all of Rosings' guests – Richard, Darcy and Elizabeth - were due to leave, Charlotte had a follow-up interview with one of the employers she a seen the week before. Because she would be alone for a significant portion of the day, Elizabeth decided to go for hike. She had been spending a lot of time with Richard and Darcy - she got the sense that they were bored with the company at the manor house - but she felt like a quiet day by herself.

Her quiet day was interrupted. Elizabeth had just got one leg of her jeans on a nail sticking out of the top of a stile. She had that leg in the air, but her head was hanging upside down with her hair falling into her face as she grabbed hold of the fence post. She heard the click of a camera shutter closing just as she lost her balance, tumbling to the ground in a clumsy pile of dust and ripped jeans.

"Darcy…" she groaned, as she was scooped up and placed back on her feet.

"You seem to spend most of your time around me falling over," her new companion quipped, as he bent to examine the long rip in her jeans. "I don't think these are recoverable, unless you want to cut the bottoms of completely and turn them into shorts."

"They are old anyway, I will probably just get rid of them." Nevertheless, Lizzie had a pout on her lips. "You got photographic evidence, didn't you?"

"And the photo will be kept until needed or sold," he winked. [1] "With you, I expect leverage will come in handy."

Despite several hints that he not, Darcy decided to walk in the same direction as Elizabeth. Her plan of a quiet walk by herself did not look like it would come to fruition, so in the end she gave in with a sigh, and resigned herself to some stilted conversation and awkward silences. To her surprise, he was actually quite eloquent. He spoke softly about the horses, about Charlie, about photography, he shared memories of Rosings as a child. The atmosphere became more comfortable as the time went on. Together, they reached an opening in the trees, as the hill they were hiking up crested. The view was magnificent. The fields below were a patchwork of green, yellow and gold; a tractor was at work in the distance, the tiny dots that were grazing horses wandered in circles.

Darcy turned from the view towards a bench set under the closest tree. He reached out to trace the name carved into the back of it,

"This is my Uncle Lewis," he said, as he sat down, "his ashes are scattered around the estate, but this was his favourite spot – he could spend hours under this tree – so when he died we put this bench here."

"When did he die?" Lizzie asked.

"Before my father, I was about fifteen. I was very fond of him – he was a pompous, infuriatingly conservative man, but he loved his family and had a _mostly_ kind heart under all his bluster. Those times I needed the guidance of an older man, about those things I could not go to Richard about, I went to Uncle Lewis. I come here now when I need to make important decisions, I like to think he could still be helping me. I can still see him in his smoking jacket and cravat…" he trailed off.

Lizzie sat next to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "On Remembrance Day, I cannot be inside at eleven o'clock. Of course I mark the time, I hold the silence, but I cannot be anywhere that might play the Last Post." She swallowed, and looked away. Darcy gently took her hand. "They played it at my mother's funeral. I was nine. The next year, they played it at school, and I threw up. I just can't bare the sound of it."[2] Lizzie was surprised at herself. She joked and acted as though she could cope with her mother's violent death, but when her father had refused to grieve, he had denied his daughters the chance to too. The silence between them stretched, then settled about them like falling snow. They both felt a peace fall weightlessly onto their shoulders, entirely different from any feeling they had ever felt in each other's company. Darcy turned to face Lizzie completely, and lifted her hand where it was held in his, and intertwined their fingers.

"When we get back to Mertyon," he hesitated, staring down at their hands, "would you like to get coffee, or something?"

Lizzie was sure it was the amazing view, or their unusually intimate conversation, or the companionship she had felt grow in the last few weeks, but she did not feel like saying no.

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When Lizzie returned to the house later that afternoon, she found that Charlotte had returned from her interview, and her friend was curious where she had been.

"You left when I did – have you really been out all this time? That is a long walk, even for you."

"I bumped in to Will, and he gave me a tour of one of the paths I had never been down. We ended spending quite a while looking at the view."

Charlotte smirked. "And at what point did he try to get a leg over?"

Lizzie gaped at her friend. "Charlotte! I have never heard you be so vulgar! And for your information, he does not want sex, he wants coffee. At least, for now. And I can do coffee for now, but let's be honest – have you seen the man? I have been out riding with him, those are not legs I would mind getting under." Charlotte did not bother to hide her surprise.

"You've changed your tune. This time last week you didn't like him, and you were sure he thought you were stupid – which you weren't willing to put up with."

"I haven't changed my tune so much as he has learned to be pleasant. Don't get me wrong, I am still cautious, I have heard some dodgy stuff about him, so I only agreed to coffee. But there were times when he was out with Richard and me when he actually seemed really nice – also, he treats animals well, which is definitely a mark in his favour."

"Well, I will just say that with a guy that looks like that, I don't think it matters whether he thinks you are stupid or if he is nice to animals – with legs like that I don't think you should complain. Let him take you out for coffee, then out for dinner, then go back to his place to 'thank' him." Lizzie scowled at her.

"I'll stick to coffee, thank you."

The rest of her stay ended pleasantly. She did not see the residents nor guests of Rosings again, but she had exchanged numbers with both of the visitors, and each text her to say goodbye. Charlotte and Bill made a large evening meal to send her off the day before she left, then a cooked breakfast before she set off home. Lizzie made the arduous drive into London to drop Jane's car off at her flat – Jane was still at work – then she got the train home to Meryton.

Charlie was there to meet her at the train station, ready and willing to relieve her of her suitcase. He engulfed her in a bear hug, despite the fact that he was not much taller than her, then he drove her back to his house, where she was once again setting up camp.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Charlie. I had a flat planned with Charlotte, but after the wedding and her dropping out, I never got around to finding another housemate – and I really can't afford to live by myself. I know, I know I should have sorted it out over the summer, but…" Charlie interrupted her self-deprecating monologue.

"I want you to stay as long as you like, Lizzie. With you around, I actually get real meals with nutritional value that I did not just microwave in a packet, so it is a win/win situation as far as I am concerned." He gently kissed her forehead, then shoved her suitcase – which had been deposited haphazardly by the front door – in her direction. "Go an unpack, while I see if we have any edible food in the fridge."

Elizabeth was still living with Charlie when the new university year started in mid-September, so she was seated on the sofa next to him watching the news when she got a text from Darcy.

 **Hello Elizabeth** it read. Lizzie glanced surreptitiously at Charlie, before typing.

 _ **Hi Darcy**_

 **How are you?**

 _ **I'm alright. You?**_

 **I am good. Would you like to get that coffee sometime soon?**

 _ **That would be nice, when do you want to?**_

 **Are you free tomorrow?**

 _ **I am, but with freshers, I think the place in town will probably be packed.**_

 **I was thinking about going over to Broxbourne – there is a really good place owned by a French couple. I can drive us**

 _ **Sounds nice. Four-ish?**_

 **See you then**

Lizzie put her phone down on the arm of the sofa, and chewed her lip. She still was not sure about going out with Darcy, but he really had seemed different down in Kent, and she wanted to give him a chance. She looked up, having noticed that the room was silent, to see Charlie had paused the news, and was watching her with an enormous grin on his face.

"So..?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Hmm, what?"

"That was Will wasn't it? He said he was going to call, but I think he chickened out. Where are you going?"

"What makes you think I said yes. And how do you know, for that matter."

"Because Will is my best friend and a pretty awful liar. I told him last year he liked you, but he denied it for ages, then he comes back from his Aunt doing his version of 'glowing', and I eventually wheedled out of him that he had asked you out."

"This is not a date, Charlie, this is coffee. Just coffee. No date." She gave him a stern look, then reached over him to snatch up the remote, turning the TV programme back on. Charlie just laughed, and pulled her into his side, with his arm around her shoulders.

"If you say so."

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Will Darcy pulled up in his sleek, shiny black car, parking on the street opposite Charlie's front door. He swallowed loudly, wiped his sweating palms on his trousers and got out of the car on shaking legs. His knock on the door was so weak he had to knock again – this time it came out absurdly loud. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. Lizzie answered the door wearing her customary jeans, and a floaty dark green blouse. Will was sure he had never seen anything more beautiful.

"If we go now, we can escape Charlie. I got Jane to phone him so he can't harass us before we leave," she muttered, closing the door behind her quickly. This was not how Will had envisioned their date starting.

"Shall I get the…" he trailed off as Lizzie pulled open the passenger side door and promptly flopped in to the seat. "Right." He sighed as he climbed into the driver's seat when he saw Elizabeth had her head down, rummaging around in her bag, but his smile grew when she started talking.

"I know you said your sister had her exams last term, I don't know what she got," she said, pulling out an envelope, "but getting through them is enough of an achievement, so got her a little something." She handed over the card, which Will tucked into the pocket in the door, and glanced about awkwardly. "So tell me, where we are going?" Will grasped onto her attempt at conversation with enthusiasm.

"It is this tiny coffee shop tucked away in Broxbourne I discovered with Georgie last year. It is run by a French couple who make the _most_ amazing pastries, and the coffee is really good, and they have a load of different teas, so I thought, well, hopefully you will like it," he laughed bashfully. Lizzie assured him that she would, and the drive was spent in frivolous conversation, asking questions about each other they had never thought to before.

"I told everyone at school that a horse at the stables had kicked me in the head, because what self-respecting eleven year old admits they had to get stiches because they knocked a tin of peaches onto their face," Lizzie laughed, leaning over to show Will the scar once he had parked the car. "The only bit that is still there is kind of hidden by my eyebrow, so I don't have to answer questions about it anymore, thankfully." Will brushed the pad of his thumb gently over the scar under her brow; Lizzie ignored the soft, tender look in his eyes.

The coffee shop Will had brought her to was quite a find – tucked away in a small village surrounded by countryside, a wonder of French pastries and artisan coffee had been created. Together, they had exclaimed over the artistry of the elaborated baking, and gratefully ordered several cups of coffee.

"Merci beaucoup Maia, c'est absolument délicieux, comme d'habitude," he said to the owner with a smile. [3] Maia gave him a sweet smile, and replied in in French. Once she had moved on to the next table, Lizzie turned to Will.

"You speak French?" she said with interest.

"I did it at school, then we had a deal with a French-Canadian company a few years ago which honed it – although I was told later on it now has a Canadian accent. Can you speak any other languages?"

"I knew some German when I was younger – I went to nursery in Germany when my Mum was stationed there – but I can't really remember any anymore." All of the awkwardness that permeated their earlier interactions seemed to have evaporated. Their conversation was relaxed, and any silences were companionable – for both of them.

After they had finished their second coffee each and had devoured platefuls of delicate pastries and elegantly decorated miniature cakes, they thanked the owner again and left. Not wishing to be parted yet, they wandered northwards, to the edges of a pretty looking woodland. They strolled together down a gravelled path – when they reached an opening with a view of a large stream tinkling though rocks and stones, they paused, and when Will reached out for Lizzie's hand, she held his back.

TBC…

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[1] Darcy is referring to the Get Out of Jail, Free card in Monopoly – it says 'this card may be kept until needed or sold'.

[2] On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, Britain holds a two minute silence to which marks the end of the First World War. The Last Post is the bugle call that was used by the military to signify the end of the day's activities before wristwatches were widely worn. After the 1850s, it began to be used, in the absence of other music, to accompany a soldier who died and was buried abroad, on his final journey. It is now played at military funerals to indicate that the soldier has gone to his final rest – we play it on Remembrance Day and Remembrance Sunday to mark the end of the two minute silence.

[3] "Thank you so much Maia, this is absolutely delicious, as usual"


	13. Chapter 12

A/N Thank you to everyone who review and messaged me, I love hearing from you. A new request: I need waffle topping ideas for the next chapter – you will understand after reading. What are your favourites? The best suggestions will get included x

I will say again… trust that Hunsford will happen, just give me time to set it up right. And from here on out, start paying attention to the little things… because they are what grows into bigger things. Let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy!

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September came to an end, and as the leaves fell in an autumnal rainbow of red, yellow, gold and brown, Will and Lizzie grew even closer. By the middle of October, Lizzie was perched on the sofa in Will's flat, waiting anxiously for her introduction to Georgiana. Since their first date at the coffee shop – Lizzie had finally conceded to calling it a date – they had seen each other two or three times a week. Their first kiss had been in the English drizzle outside a chocolate shop, where they had spent an evening at a chocolate and wine tasting. Their second had been the next day, when they met up for lunch at the university, and Will had presented Lizzie with an elaborately decorated cupcake he had bought. They had even started calling each other on the evenings they did send together, to each the other's voice before they went to bed.

They often spent the weekends together – going out for dinner, taking walks together, they had even tried paintballing.

"Did you think your fancy-shmancy country pheasant shoots could compare to being taught by my godfather?" Elizabeth had asked him after soundly trouncing him. "Don't let the Medical Corps bit confuse you, the man is an incredible marksman. And apparently, when pointing a paintball gun, so am I."

Everything had been going very well for several weeks, but Will had decided that it could not go any further until his sister had met Lizzie. They had both agreed with him, so here Lizzie was, cradling a hot mug anxiously while waiting for Georgie to come in from school.

They heard her before they saw her; she was jiggling her key hard in the lock. Will sniggered to himself, and strode over the door, swinging it open with a grin.

"If I'm home and you are not, I don't lock the door, and I never have." The waiflike blond in the door way grumbled at him while flinging her school bag into a corner and setting two large folders on the side table by the door with a heavy thump. Lizzie rose from the sofa to greet her, as Georgiana threw Will a muted glare. Just as Will began the introduction, and Georgiana had extended a hand with Will's prompting, she flicked her hair from where it had fallen in front of her face. Lizzie inhaled sharply.

Under a layer of makeup, a purple scar was visible on Georgiana's face. It cut parallel to her left cheek bone towards her nose, before it curved sharply upward to end a few centimetres from the corner of her eye. With her audible intake of breath, Georgie's hand fell to her side, and she seemed to collapse in on herself. The tall girl suddenly appeared childlike, turning away from eye contact, with her shoulders curved inwards and her breathing shallow. Lizzie attempted to rectify the situation by warmly greeting her and asking after her day at school, but it was too late, and after a muttered response, the blond shuffled – still graceful – into her bedroom, and closed the door with a sigh.

Darcy stomped pass Lizzie into the kitchen where he filled the kettle up with unusual aggression. Flicking the switch heavy-handedly he slammed his hands onto the kitchen counter and lowered his head. Lizzie followed him into the kitchen, closing the door behind herself.

"I didn't mean to react like that Will, I was just surprised, is all." She attempted to place her hand between his shoulder blades, but he shook her off.

"How could you do that?" he demanded though gritted teeth. "I promised her you would not react badly – she is not going to come out all evening now."

"I don't know how you can blame me for this, Darcy, I feel really bad, alright. I got surprised, because _you_ didn't tell me she had been hurt – I can tell is was quite recent – so I wasn't prepared to not react."

"It is not my fault you can't control yourself, don't you blame me – I thought you knew better than to be like that," he told her accusingly.

"I am not blaming you, I am just telling you I was not prepared. You know I don't have any issues with scars, I grew up around the military! My godfather's favourite party trick is putting his hand in a naked flame, because he has no feeling in his arm - and the scar is still there from the bullet that caused it. I just needed to know to expect something." [1]

Will sighed deeply. "I know you aren't disgusted or anything, it is just Georgie has had a lot of bad reactions from other people, and I guess I thought you would not be caught off guard." Lizzie realised he was not going to address the issue of how Georgie got such a nasty scar on her face, but she decided not to pursue it. It was still early, and she knew everybody had been tense leading up to the big meeting – the subsequent scar situation had not helped. Lizzie stayed at Will's flat for another hour, but after a second cup of tea and some stilted conversation, Elizabeth eventually gave in and got up to leave.

"I hope Georgie feels better once you explain I was just a bit unprepared. I feel awful about it, but sitting around moping won't help. Go and give her a hug and tell her I say sorry, she obviously does not want to see me." Lizzie bent to kiss his cheek and let herself out; she left Will sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands.

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After classes the next day, when Lizzie had retreated to her room, she was disturbed by a knock at her door. She opened it to fins Will on the other side, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and an apologetic expression on his face.

"Hi Lizzie," he said sheepishly, as he reached up to rub the back of his head nervously. "Can I come in?" Lizzie moved out of his way to let him in, before gently taking the flowers from him. She could not see anything she could use as a vase, so she cleared a space on her desk and carefully laid them there.

"I am sorry about yesterday, Elizabeth. Georgie's injuries are a touchy subject for me, and I over reacted, I'm sorry. I guess I still have a lot of anger about it, and I took it out on you when I got reminded – I don't see them anymore, you see." Lizzie accepted his apology, but when she tried to turn the subject towards the cause of her scar, Will closed up again. He was sat on the edge of her bed with his shoulder tense and his back straight.

"I don't want to talk about it." He took a look about her box of a room. She had a cork board leaning on the floor next to her desk with post-its, notes, a colour-coded timetable and a couple of photographs pinned to it. Her desk looked messy, with piles of writing pads and loose pieces of paper, but Will was sure there was some order to it that only Lizzie could comprehend.

"I can understand that, Will, but you say you still have anger about it, so it might help to get it out. How did it happen?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," he said harshly, then his expression softened slightly. "It is not my place to tell you." Lizzie was torn. She wanted to know how Georgiana came to have such a horrible scar on her face – she assumed it was related to the injury Wickham referred to when they spoke – but she also cared enough about Will to respect the boundaries he had set… for now. _The joys of an adult relationship_ , she thought _, not getting demanding when you want information when you really like the person you are with._

Once Will had left, this thought came back to her with the siren and whistles of a warning klaxon. _Oh God, I really like Will Darcy. When did that happen? At some point, I went from barely tolerating him to enjoying his company and wanting to spend time with him and wanting to hear his voice before I go to sleep._ Lizzie curled herself up against the wall by her bed, her arms draped around her knees. She was having trouble processing the depth of her attachment to her… boyfriend?

 _Is he my boyfriend? I mean, I am fairly certain we are dating, and I am not seeing anyone else, and he does not seem to be seeing anyone else, but are we a couple?_ Whatever she had with Will was her first proper relationship. She had dated here and there before, and she had had a boyfriend when she was in sixth form, but that had not lasted long. She had always found herself slightly apart from people her own age – she had lots of friends, but she always felt more cynical and disillusioned that the people she went to school with, she felt older, somehow. Now here she was, going out with an older guy who understood how it felt to lose a parent at an early age, and who also learned to look after himself. Now she realised that whatever she had with Will might actually go somewhere.

When Will called her that evening, Lizzie pretended she had not come to this great realisation, and Will pretended he was not trying very hard to avoid the topic of Georgiana and her injuries.

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The subject of Georgiana's injuries remained undiscussed. When Lizzie next went to Will's she met Georgie again, and this time was prepared. At first, Will's sister had been both shy and coolly aloof, but she was softened by Lizzie's charm; eventually the two of them were curled up on either end of the sofa sharing a plate of biscuits, sharing school horror stories.

"So we kind of side-tracked onto the topic of HIV," Lizzie was explaining, "and I was telling the person next to me about the scandal in the seventies and eighties with contaminated blood products, and my biology teacher interrupts to tell me that nothing happened, because they would not have let it. She told us it never happened! A biology teacher! Luckily it wasn't part of the syllabus for GCSE, but that was the moment I lost all faith in her – I knew she was a terrible teacher anyway, but she managed to miss the entire scandal or she completely forgot about it. Either way, that was the end of it for me, I decided I couldn't trust a single thing she said and spent the rest of the year double checking everything she taught with the textbook." [2] Georgie hands were clapped over her mouth, muffling her disbelieving laughter, and her eyed were wide.

"That tops mine, I think" she giggled. "Surely she was alive when it happened?"

"She was alive and definitely old enough that she would have had to have been under a rock to have missed it. She was possibly the worst teacher I ever had, and her voice! Argh, it was the most grating, infuriating thing in the world." Lizzie's look of aggravation was enough to send Georgie into further giggles, as Will emerged from the kitchen.

"Food's ready. And no, I don't want to know what you two are hysterical about." He snagged Lizzie round the waist as she made her way to the table, after Georgiana had disappeared into the kitchen. "Thank you for whatever you did," he whispered as he leant into a gentle kiss, "I haven't heard her laugh like that in far too long. You are brilliant." He kissed her again, and Lizzie arms came up to wind around his neck, as one of his hands crept under her T-shirt.

"I can hear you guys, and I don't want to hear it, so stop snogging and get in here or I will eat everything," Georgie threatened from the kitchen. The couple pulled apart with a laugh, and joined the blond at the table. The atmosphere over dinner was joyful, with light-hearted debate and teasing. When Will rose to dig some ice cream from the bottom of the freezer, Georgie grasped Lizzie's hand.

"I am going up to stay at the London house over the weekend with Richard, and I have been trying to convince Will to come, but you should come as well! Wouldn't that be brilliant, Will?" she threw over her shoulder, "You really should come, it will be great. You know Richard, don't you?" she directed back to Lizzie. "He said he is definitely not working this weekend; there is plenty of room at the townhouse. You can come can't you?" Lizzie glanced at Will, and as he did not seem adverse to his sister's plan, she laughed,

"I don't think I have an option."

"It is bonfire night on Saturday, so we are going to watch the fireworks. Will," she turned to her brother, "I got Richard to order you a ticket even though you weren't planning to come, he can get one for Lizzie. We can do the touristy stuff with you on Saturday, so on Sunday we can just lounge around. Ohh!" she exclaimed, jumping out of her seat as she reached for her bowl of ice cream, "I will get Richard to make waffles, he makes the best waffles. We got him a waffle making machine thing for Christmas a few years ago, and they are just the best." Georgie continued prattling about the waffles, which descended into an argument about the best toppings for waffles, and the best toppings for pancakes, then the best fillings for crepes.

On the sofa cuddling that evening, after Georgie had retired to her room, Will expressed his gratitude to her.

"Why are you thanking me? I have not done anything."

"You have, you just don't realise it. You do not see the effect you have on a room when you walk in – suddenly everyone is livelier and happier, the room seems lighter, everything seems like it is better just because you are there." Lizzie placed her hand on his cheek tenderly as he explained. "But here, when you have the same effect, it means so much more. Georgie has had a really rough year, but with you around, it is like none of that ever happened, and she is a happy, carefree teenager again. And no thanks will ever be enough." He kissed her softly, and when she sighed, he kissed her deeper. This time, they were not interrupted when his hands began to roam under her top.

"If you are coming to London with us, will you be using the guest room?" Will murmured as he kissed a sensitive spot behind Lizzie's ear. "Because if you want to share with me, I think we need to practice"

"Practice?" she asked with a breathy laugh, "practice sleeping? I think we are old enough to know how to sleep, don't you?" She slipped a hand just under the waist of his trousers, so it was resting on the skin of his hip. He growled lightly.

"Well, if we are old enough for sleeping, we are old enough for some other fun. Care to practice some other room sharing activities. That is, if you want to." He pulled away from her, and suddenly looked uncertain. "You don't have to do anything, I am not pressuring you."

"Will…"

"I guess, with my sister here and all, you know, I understand if…" Lizzie pulled him back towards her and looked into his eyes.

"Will, I think 'practice' would be a brilliant idea." She brought his lips to hers and smiled.

TBC…

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[1] A family friend is able to do this – he once forgot to take it out of the fire until the smell told him there was some serious singeing going on. He was shot through the arm while deployed in Yemen, and it damaged a nerve. He still has full use of the arm, just very little sensation from his skin.

[2] The contaminated blood product scandal, also known as the tainted blood scandal, refers to the thousands of haemophiliacs who were infected by hepatitis C and HIV through contaminated clotting factor products. Lizzie's story is based on something that happened to me in an A level Biology class – yes, one of my teachers actually told me it didn't happen.


	14. Chapter 13

A/N I did not manage to fit the waffles in, but thank you for all the suggestions. The waffles will be next chapter.

Guest: thanks for your review - three is the usual number, but lots of people do four if they are clever, some of the exceptionally bright and academically inclined do five… but six? Nooo way. Where are you from? I am interested to know how you can find the time to do seven A levels – in England you spend four or five hours per subject a week in lesson, plus several hours of independent study. How did you manage six? X

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Friday arrived with characteristic British drizzle. The sky was a blanket of itchy grey wool, and the wind had a sharp edge that stung the skin. Elizabeth met the Darcy contingent outside their flat where Will was loading two small duffel bags into the boot.

"We both have stuff at the other house, this is just toiletries and electronics," he told her. He picked up the small suitcase she had been wheeling and lifted that in as well, before pulling the door down with a bang. The noise roused Georgie, who had been lounging in the passenger seat.

"She is here, can we leave now?" she called.

"Yeah, so get out of Lizzie's seat and get in the back," he shouted back. Lizzie demurred, but Will insisted.

"What sort of older brother would I be if let my pipsqueak sister stay in the front while my girlfriend was relegated to the back seat?" Lizzie laughed as Georgie huffed her way out of the front of the car and slumped in the back with pout, grumbling that she had been at school all day and should be allowed in the front. Will replied that he and Elizabeth had been at lectures all day as well, but it made little difference.

The drive down to Mayfair only took an hour, and the short journey was filled with lively conversation. Georgie and Lizzie were enjoying getting to know one another, and Will was delighted that everyone was getting along. The house they pulled up next to was grand and stately, like all the others on the road. It had three stories above ground, with a fourth slightly sunken beneath the level of the street. The cream façade was clean and obviously well maintained; the windows on the lower floors were modern, but the ones at the top were the original sash windows. On either side of the door was a great pillar, painted white, supporting the porch roof which also acted as a small balcony. The door itself was an imposing dark green with an enormous brass knocker. Elizabeth was in awe of the architecture in front of her.

"This is your house?" she stuttered in disbelief. The Darcy siblings did not appear to notice anything unusual about their residence.

"Of course," Will simply replied as he lifted the bags form the car. Turning to his sister he said, "Richard will not be home until quite late tonight, Georgie, at least after half seven, so why don't you go in and get any work done now, so that you can have the rest of the weekend off." Georgiana moaned that homework was horrible and Will was unfair, but her brother was firm, and knowing that he was right, she slunk off to her room.

Once Georgie had disappeared upstairs, Will picked up Lizzie's hand and led her through the house to the kitchen, which was one of the rooms underground. The only natural light came from a long but thin window that ran just under the ceiling, nevertheless the room appeared light and airy with its sparse decorating and bright lights. Away from the oven and cupboards, a stylish oak table filled the large space, with chairs upholstered in different colours. At Elizabeth's look of wonder, William explained,

"This house is several hundred years old – in its heyday there was a large staff of cooks, maids and footmen. This was the original kitchen, but it also acted as a sort of common room for the servants. When I was a kid, there was still a lot of the old stuff, an ancient oven which predated the first world war, and it still had an old-fashioned ice box, which rather ridiculously, my parents filled with ice from the fridge. My grandparents had got when they were first being made. My mum gutted the room when I was at prep school, and I redid it again a few years ago." [1]

"It is an incredible space," Elizabeth observed, as Darcy nudged her into a tall stool by the counter. He began searching for something, but could not seem to find whatever he was looking for. He grumbled with is head in a cupboard,

"Whenever I come back here after too long, I find that Richard has rearranged everything – I swear he does it just to wind me up."

"Of course I do, I live for making your life difficult," a voice came from the doorway.

"Richard!" Will banged he back of his head on the cupboard in his surprise, and emerged, rubbing it tentatively. "I thought you weren't going to be home until late, what are you doing here?"

"I could not be late for your illustrious guest, could I?" He made his way over to Elizabeth and scooped her up into a hug. Lizzie laughed delightedly and ignored the scowl that had suddenly formed on Will's face.

"Look at you in uniform Richard – very handsome," Lizzie observed as Richard lowered her feet back to the ground. As her face was now pressed into his chest, she missed the sharp look of anger which flashed in William's eyes. When Richard finally released her from the hug, Will's expression was once again neutral. "Ooh, epaulets. I'm a military brat, I have a thing about epaulets. I learned as a kid to have both enormous respect and absolutely no deference for them."

"Might not be safe if I don't change out of the uniform, got it." Richard winked at Lizzie and nodded to his cousin. "I'll say hi to Georgie on the way." With a dramatic bow, he quit the room, accompanied by Lizzie's laughter. William grunted angrily and began banging pans around on the hob, and slammed the cupboard doors as he got out a few simple ingredients. Elizabeth approached him from behind, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"What's up" she asked softly.

"Nothing," he grunted.

"There is obviously something wrong, talk to me." Will shrugged her arms off, and continued cooking. "Come on Will…"

"If you are going to flirt with my cousin, could you have the decency to wait until I am not in the room," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"Flirt?! What are you on about?" Elizabeth was honestly surprised.

"There was no need to throw yourself at him like that."

"I did not throw myself at him, Darcy, I was just pleased to see him – we got on very well in Kent. Where is this coming from?" Will glowered.

"You never greet me like that." There was a nasty, bitter edge to the tone of his voice.

"Are you jealous?" she asked, incredulous.

"I'm not jealous." It would have been a whine if his voice had not been too low.

"Well would you like to tell me what it is then, if you are not jealous. Which you have no reason to be, by the way."

"I just," he stuttered, "I mean… it's nothing." He scowled again, but before Elizabeth could demand an answer out of him, Georgiana came bounding into the room. Richard followed her moments later, now dressed in well-worn jeans and a jumper.

"Smells good, what are we having?"

"Risotto – pepper and tomato. Can you get the cheese out of the fridge, please. Unless Richard is keeping it somewhere else?"

"Nope cuz, I keep it in the fridge like everyone else." He raised an eyebrow at the confrontational stance Elizabeth had adopted, and the way Will was avoiding her gaze. Lizzie caught Richard's eye and shook her head subtly.

Dinner was a subdued affair. Richard had had a difficult day at work, Georgie was already bogged down with A levels, and Darcy was avoiding Lizzie, despite sitting next to her at the table. After everyone had finished eating, Georgianna suggested they watch a film together but after a quick glance at the couple, Richard said he wanted to have a long shower and lie down, and Darcy was still behaving oddly, so Georgie gave in and retreated to her room to do some more schoolwork.

"Do you want to show me where we are sleeping?" Lizzie asked Will. When he ignored her question and picked up the television remote, she was firmer. "Let me rephrase that. Show me where we are sleeping, please." Will sighed to himself, but nevertheless stood to lead the way. They climbed the first flight of stairs, and took a door to the right, as Will pointed upwards.

"Richard is on the top floor. Georgie and I are on this one." Elizabeth gently closed the door behind them and took a seat on the bed, as Will shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Talk to me Will." She stood to take his hand but settled back on the bed, pulling Will with her.

"It's nothing." She gave him a disappointed look.

"Look Will, I am trying here. Something has you acting odd, and I would appreciate it if you could at least try to work with me here."

"I said it is nothing Elizabeth," he snapped.

"Right, well," she sighed as she ran her hand over her face, standing up. "I'll leave to you your misery then. I am going to turn in early I think, join me when you get over yourself." She unzipped her suitcase and removed her wash bag and pyjamas with jerky movements. "Where is the bathroom?"

"It is an en suite," her boyfriend muttered, "Through that door there."

When Elizabeth exited the bathroom in her silky pyjamas – which she had recovered from the depths of her wardrobe especially – to find the bedroom empty. With a frustrated sigh, she got herself under the covers of the sumptuous king sized bed. She went to sleep alone.

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When she woke up, it was still night time. The light filtering through the curtains was dim yellow of the old sodium lamps which still had not been replaced with modern LED street lights. The mattress sank as someone climbed into the bed next to her; a hand tentatively stroked her shoulder before the person turned under the duvet to face away.

"Night, Lizzie," she heard Will mumble, obviously not expecting her to hear.

"Goodnight," she whispered in response. Will did not acknowledge her.

After a few minutes of the painful silence that comes with two people trying to sleep while knowing the other person in the bed is not asleep and is listening to your breathing, Will suddenly lurched out of the bed to turn on the lamp, which was now balanced unsteadily on the edge of the bedside table.

"I get insecure," Will announced. Disoriented and wincing away from the sudden light, Elizabeth sat up slowly, but did not say anything.

"I get insecure, then I get jealous, but it is not your problem it is mine, so I didn't want to make it an issue, but then you saw it and it made things worse and now…" he trailed off. "I'm being stupid. It's nothing." He switched the light off, plunging them back into darkness. It was Elizabeth's turn to lean out of the bed – she groped around for the unfamiliar lamp on her side of the bed. Once she could see his features again, Lizzie cupped his face and turned it towards her.

"What brought this on, Will. I thought we were in a good place?"

"We are good, it is my problem, you don't need to get involved."

"But I am involved because not only does it seem that I am the catalyst for whatever you are feeling, you are taking it out on me and your family, so maybe talking about might be better that letting you brood yourself into a tizzy." Will was silent for several moments, but Elizabeth could see he was mulling her proposition over in his head, so did not press him. Then he turned so he was facing her fully and grasped her hand tightly.

"You are bloody beautiful, you know that, don't you?"

"While I am inclined to agree, what does that have to do with anything?"

"You are gorgeous. And you are funny, and smart, and you make friends so easily, and you handle everything so well. Here I am, barely able to make eye contact with a new person unless it is through the lens of a camera or within the defined parameters of a business meeting. Sometimes I feel like I am juggling flaming torches while balancing on the edge of a cliff, and other times I feel like I am barely keeping my head above the water." His head was in his hands and his tone was helpless. "The negative stuff rolls off you like water on a duck's back, and you swim though life with all the ease of a dolphin, and God, I need to stop with the watery analogies." He ran a hand through his mussed hair in agitation. "I just didn't feel quite so inadequate until you came and showed me how life is supposed to be done."

Elizabeth laughed incredulously. "You think I find life easy?! I don't cope, I ignore issues until I either _have_ to deal with them, or the go away by themselves."

"But I watch you with your sister and you have such a good relationship, and here I am trying to be a good brother to Georgie while being a mother and a father and failing at all three."

"And I watch you be such a good, gentle influence on you sister, building the foundations of a relationship that will last when she is an adult, while I talk to my sister, who has to see the best in everybody as a coping mechanism and refuses to see that our relationship was damaged when I was bullied by my step-mother but Jane would not acknowledge it, because that would have made it real." She squeezed his knee through the covers earnestly. "We all feel like we are screwing up all the time, Will, and I am really not a good example if you want a well-adjusted, emotionally-stable adult."

"I guess, it's just, well," it was clear Will was struggling to articulate the problem. "It always feels like you can do better. I mean, I was twenty six in the summer, but this," he gesture between them, "what we have, it is my first real relationship where I am genuinely invested in where it is going. But you are young and so beautiful, and your brain is incredible, and I feel like you are settling for me, when you have so much to offer someone who deserves you."

"You do deserve me, I am not settling, and you are an incredible person – look at what you have achieved at school while looking after your sister and with your Dad dying and the business stuff. Not to mention, you are hot as hell. And I will keep telling you until you see that, okay." Will's nod was subdued but convincing, so Lizzie drew him in for a kiss. "But next time you are worrying, or insecure, tell me, don't be mean and distant, or I will hand you your arse on a silver platter, are we clear?" [2] Darcy's grin was comforting, and his nod had more power than the last. He kissed her hard, and whispered in her ear,

"If this was us making up, is there any make-up sex on the cards." He pulled back to look her in the eye, but his smirk faded in the face of her raised eyebrow. "Right. Be a dick, don't get sex. Is that the gist?"

Elizabeth kissed him lightly on the nose, and rolled away, pulling his arm with her to wrap it around her waist. "Got it in one."

TBC….

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[1] Prep schools (preparatory schools) are for children from seven/eight to either eleven or thirteen. Between nursery age and eight is referred to as pre-prep. They are fee-paying independent school – often considered the 'posh' alternative to ordinary primary schools.

[2] Think 'I will kick your ass', with a bit of British flair.


	15. Chapter 14

A/N This chapter is dedicated to **lmiller1** , **Kaohing** , **fireflower297** and the **guest** who left a suggestion. Thank you for getting involved x

I have to add an extra warning for very strong bad language in this chapter, so younger teens, pm me and I can send you a clean version. If you want to skip it, just miss out the first section.

The vernacular of the British military is a beautiful and creative thing, but is not necessarily appropriate for general use. Lizzie was raised close to the Army – first because of her Mum and then her godfather – and while most people are careful about swearing around the kids, stuff always slips through…

To my lovely reader from Singapore – it sounds like your A levels work completely differently, I am intrigued… On the matter of D being judgy, I am afraid I can't reveal too much, but it might become a problem, you will have to wait and see! Thanks for reviewing x

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When Elizabeth woke up the next morning, Will had shifted during the night, taking her with him, so that Lizzie had been rolled onto her stomach and Will was using the back of her shoulder as a headrest.

"Ow, Will, move," she groaned, as she tried to turn over, but the weight of her boyfriend had her pinned down, and her voice was muffled because her face was squished into her pillow. "Will, Darcy, get off me." Will groaned, a languorous moan which spoke of his comfort – Elizabeth was having none of it. "Now, Will. Get off me right now."

"Alright, alright," he muttered as he lifted his weight off her, before snuggling into the pillow he should have been sleeping on before. "Don't get up." He blindly flailed an arm in her direction in an attempt to catch her, but she had already climbed out of the bed and was cringing in pain. One of her shoulders was considerable higher than the other one.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow," she winced as she made her way towards the bathroom. When she emerged several mimutes later, she had a scowl on her face. "The tension in my neck is giving me a headache, and when I lifted my arm to do my teeth my shoulder started getting shooting pains, I am really not your biggest fan right now."

"But you are so comfy," Will moaned, his head still buried in his pillow.

"You didn't get to bed until late last night, have a lie in," she said as she patted his shoulder, "I'll find myself some breakfast." Will murmured his assent, but he was already half asleep.

When Elizabeth wandered into the kitchen, having changed into some leggings and a jumper which were more company-appropriate then the silky things she had worn to bed, she found that only Georgiana was up. She was perched, bleary-eyed, on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"I take it the Darcys are not morning people, eh?" Elizabeth chuckled. Georgie scowled in response.

"Too early for talking, shush," the blond grunted. Elizabeth went through the motions of making tea, and by the time she had a mug cradled in one hand and had placed another in front of Georgiana, the younger had woken enough to thank her.

"Do you want waffles?" Georgie asked Elizabeth as she took a seat on one of the other stools.

"Mmm, that sounds good."

"Well Richard won't be getting out of bed for a while and I always make them wrong so you are going to have to do them," Georgie said with a grin. "I think Richard has a written recipe of the batter, and we can work out the cooking contraption together."

"I think you missed the bit about me being a guest here."

"You are only a guest if you sleep in a guest room, which I am almost certain you did not, which means you have to pitch in," the teenager laughed. Together they hefted the waffle maker out of a cupboard and Georgie produced a hand-written recipe from somewhere. Elizabeth spent a long while gathering ingredients and attempting to decipher the scrawling writing in which the recipe was hidden, before waving it towards Georgie.

"In my hand I have a piece of paper that tells me absolutely fuck all." [1]

"I would rather you did not expose my younger sister to that sort of language," Will commented from the doorway. He was still wearing the wrinkled shorts and T-shirt he slept in, and his hair was mussed. "Not everyone was raised around the military – I hate to break it to you love, but that is considered by civilians to be rude."

"That is nothing," Elizabeth exclaimed, "when I was seventeen my best friend and I smuggled some alcohol in one evening, and when we got really tipsy we started a competition for the best sweary phrases we had overheard. So her parents come back to find us drunk and swearing, and when her Dad – the Major General – hears what we were doing he goes 'that was nothing, you putrid, scrotum-sucking cockwombles.' Her Mum went absolutely ballistic. She was more angry about him talking like that in front of us than the fact we were drinking underage."

Georgiana was giggling gleefully with her hands over her mouth; Will was just staring at her in shock, his mouth hanging wide open.

"This was not what I was expecting when we invited you to come," he whimpered, as he made his way towards the kettle. "Maybe I am going to wake up in a moment and my girlfriend is not going to be saying the words scrotum-sucking cockwomble to my younger sister."

"Apparently, that was what he called this particular nincompoop that worked for him, but as Mrs Goulding said, it is not something you should be calling seventeen year old girls." Will cried his agreement with this. "The old man always was too competitive, he just couldn't let us win," Lizzie mused. "But it got us out of trouble for the alcohol." Will sat at the kitchen table and slammed his head down.

"Make it stop," he moaned.

"I am sorry, sweetie," Lizzie crooned faux-sympathetically, "Is this too much for you? Are your poor posh ears bleeding with the commonness of my language. Should I only say 'bugger' and 'fiddlesticks'?" By this point, Georgie was doubled over and laughing hysterically. Will folded his arms over his head, which was still slammed into the table.

"I give up. You are going to corrupt my baby sister and there is nothing I can do about it."

Just as Georgie's laughter had begun to tai off, Richard strolled into the room, rubbing his hands. "Who is up for some waffles? Oh good, you already got the waffle maker out." This sent the teenager back into hysterics, and even Will gave in to a chuckle. Richard just looked very confused.

"What did I say?"

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Richard had begun commanding kitchen as Elizabeth imagined he commanded the police station – with irreverent authority. Will was instructed to wash and slice a bowl of strawberries, while Georgiana hopped about her cousin.

"Ooh, strawberries… what are we having with them?" Georgiana wheedled from over Richard's shoulder.

"I've have been mucking around with a hot chocolate sauce, as in a _hot chocolate_ sauce. I wanted it the same as the stuff you drink, just thicker. I tried a runny ganache, but it just overpowered the waffles – I find the hot chocolate flavour is just the right strength."

"Look at you, Richard," Lizzie admired, "All experimental and confident in the kitchen, why don't you have a girlfriend?" Elizabeth saw Will's shoulders hunch over the colander of strawberries, and his brows formed a sharp scowl, so she patted his shoulder as if to say 'stop it' and added, "or boyfriend, 'cause, you know, I don't judge." Richard just laughed.

"For your information, a _girlfriend_ doesn't appreciate you working twelve hour shifts and being too busy – or tired – to spend much time with her, no matter _what_ your proficiency in the kitchen."

"Well that sucks," she observed. "But my stomach will appreciate that fact that you are here cooking waffles for us rather than at a girlfriend's, so it works for me." Richard feigned a deep frown.

"I am glad my loneliness works so nicely for you – I will die, alone, content in the knowledge that one Saturday morning, said loneliness made Elizabeth…"

"Bennet."

"Bennet, right. Said loneliness made Elizabeth Bennet's stomach happy." There was a breathless gasp from the corner, and Elizabeth dashed across the kitchen to pull a stool under Georgiana as her legs gave way, her face suddenly drained of colour.

"Georgie, Georgie, are you alright?" The men both rushed over as well, until they had formed a little circle around the blonde.

"Richard, you can't die," she whispered weakly.

"I know, I know, sweetie," she replied as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "I am sorry, I shouldn't have joked about it."

Will pulled Lizzie out of the huddle to explain. "When Georgie was younger, while my father was still alive, Richard got injured – it was a nasty knife wound that had him in intensive care in a critical condition. Since our father died, she had been terrified of something happening to either of us, and unfortunately, Richard is not guaranteed to be out of the line of fire, as it were."

"Poor Georgie, and poor Richard! How awful," she murmured.

"Come on now, let's get back to the waffles," Richard announced, "waffles make everything better." He moved a large plate of stacked waffles onto the table for everyone to take some, while Will carried the bowl of strawberries, and Lizzie examined the chocolate sauce – sneakily dipping a finger in for a taste.

"This stuff is wicked – it's all thick and saucey, but it tastes just like the hot chocolate you drink."

"That is rather the point. I just make it with much less milk – same flavour, less like a drink and more like a thin custard. I think it works just right," he replied.

Lizzie covered her waffle with strawberries, and poured on the sauce, hastily cutting a corner and stuffing it in her mouth.

"Mmm, oooh God, this is incredible," she moaned.

"I know," Richard agreed smugly. Will dug some chocolate chips from the back of a cupboard, and Georgiana found some Nutella which she ate on her second waffle with raspberries covered in whipped cream.

Once the waffles had been gorged on with delight, everybody in pyjamas got dressed and the entire party suited up in heavy coats and scarves. Georgiana suggested the traditional tourist activities – an outing to the National History Museum, a trip on the London Eye, a tour of the Tower of London. Lizzie had given her an unimpressed look.

"You know this isn't my first time in London, don't you? My sister lives in London, I come here quite often." Georgiana stamped her foot and pouted.

"I just thought it might nice to do the classics. Well, where haven't you been?"

In the end, they spent several amusing hours wandering around Sir John Sloane's Museum. [2] Richard turned out to be quite the connoisseur of art, and for a reason unknown to anybody, he knew far too much random trivia about A Rake's Progress. [3]

"He also did a series called the Harlot's Progress which was about a prostitute's downfall. Sadly, the original was destroyed in a fire in 1755."

"Sadly?" Georgie choked. "Why would you want to look at paintings of some poor woman getting screwed over by life?" Will scowled first at his sister then at his girlfriend.

"Look what you have done," he glowered, "She talks like you now." Elizabeth just grinned at him.

"I am an awesome influence, and frankly it is creepy that your cousin knows so much about eighteenth century prostitute paintings." From the other side of the room where Richard had wondered, the policeman yelled,

"It is called an education and a little bit of class, Bennet. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about either." The smartly dressed man with a clipboard standing in the corner glared at him sharply, and Richard smiled sheepishly back at him.

After Sloane's, the group found a cafe next to an independent book shop, where they arranged themselves around a low, wooden table, sinking into the soft leather chairs. Will behaved as though he was completely over his mood from the night before, offering to go up to the counter and place everybody's order. Georgie immediately settled on the carrot and coriander soup, while after some deliberation Richard chose a meatball and mozzarella panini.

"I'll have the BLT with extra cheese please. I don't want it warm. Thanks, Will."

When Darcy came back with their drinks, having ordered the food, they spent a pleasant ten minutes discussing the artwork they had seen at the museum, and planning what to do next. They were interrupted as the server – a young, bearded man with two tattoo sleeves and painfully tight jeans – who began setting food on the table.

"Carrot and coriander soup, with brown bread roll; meatball toasted panini; pumpkin and bacon, with white bread roll; and bacon, lettuce and tomato with extra cheese, toasted." Elizabeth looked up sharply.

"Oh no, sorry, that was not supposed to be toasted." The server looked confused and glanced at Will. Darcy turned to Elizabeth and patted her hand condescendingly.

"It is cold outside, I thought you should get something warm inside you."

"But I didn't want it toasted, Will, I was clear about that – I don't care if it is brass monkeys outside." [4] The server was looking concerned and hastily interrupted the couple,

"I can take it back if you do not want it?"

"No, no," Lizzie sighed, "that would be a waste." She smiled at the bearded man. "It is fine, don't worry." Once he returned behind the counter, Elizabeth turned towards her boyfriend, a stern glint in her eyes. "I do not appreciate you making decisions for me like that. When I said I didn't want it warm, I meant I didn't want it warm – I didn't mean 'go and change my order because you think you know better than me.' Okay?"

"I just thought…"

"Don't just think. Next time, actually listen." This time, Will did not protest, he just huffed and gave his soup a vigorous stir. Richard loudly enquired if Georgiana was enjoying her food, and while the blond looked confused at his over the top questioning, she answered him, and eventually the tense atmosphere dissipated.

After lunch, the group made their way toward the river Thames for a walk. Richard complained that they would get cold enough that evening while watching the fireworks, but Georgiana insisted they could all do with some exercise, and when Elizabeth admitted that she had never walked along the river with the intention to just appreciate it, the older man capitulated. While the chill coming off the water was sharp, the company was warm, and in the end everyone had a lovely time.

They returned to the townhouse in the middle of the afternoon to have something to eat and warm themselves, before they bundled back up into their winter outerwear – this time adding hats and gloves.

"Has someone got the tickets?" Richard asked his cousins. Both Will and Georgie suddenly looked panicked.

"No, you said you had booked ours at the beginning of October and you would get another one for Lizzie."

"Yeah, I think I got Lizzie's but then I couldn't remember where I had put ours and I put it somewhere, I figured you would have got it all sorted yesterday like you usually do."

"No, I thought you had it all in hand!"

This prompted fifteen minutes of frantic searching – with everyone still wearing their thick coats and scarves – before Lizzie's ticket was found behind the microwave in the kitchen and the Darcy/Fitzwilliam tickets were under a pile of papers in Richards study. The boots were put back on with even more haste than before, and the quartet rushed out of the door. Once they got to Southwark Park and were granted entry, Richard disappeared with Georgie to get some hot dogs, leaving the couple alone. [5] Will laced his gloved fingers though Lizzie's and they wandered together, taking in the atmosphere, before Will suddenly let go and pulled his camera out of a pocket buried deep in the layers of his outerwear.

"So it is photography time now?" Lizzie laughed, and watched on lovingly as Will began framing shots. When she was joined by their other companions, Georgie looped their arms together and whispered,

"Does it bother you that he can completely forget you are here so he can take photographs?"

"Not at all," Lizzie shook her head, "Photography is a part of who Will is, behind the camera is where is he comfortable and happiest. I could never begrudge he that." When Will caught her eye from meters away, she smiled softly and wiggled her fingers in a small wave. He grinned back at her, then resumed taking photos of the cotton candy stall.

The firework display was spectacular, and the group of four stood side by side looking skyward as the final burst of red and green lit up the clouds and fizzled out into the darkness. Elizabeth let go of Will's hand to join in with the applause, but quickly re-laced their fingers when the whooping had died down.

After they said goodnight to Richard and Georgie, they made their way up to Will's bedroom hastily. As Lizzie brushed her teeth, Will had stood behind her, tracing the outline of her waist and hips. Once she was done, he took her hand and led her towards the bed, and Lizzie laughed.

"Was there something you wanted, Will?" Her boyfriend just raised an eyebrow and drew her body into his. He lowered his mouth to hers, and smirked into it when she sighed.

TBC…

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[1] This is something I heard from an ex-Army friend when someone sent him bad directions and it cracked me up, so I couldn't resist adding it, sorry. It deteriorated from there.

[2] Sir John Soane's Museum in Holborn was formerly the home of the neo-classical architect John Soane. The museum was established in 1837 when Sir John died. It is a wealth of paintings, drawings and antiquities as well sketches and models of Sloane's architectural projects.

[3] A Rake's Progress is a series of eight paintings that tells the story of a fictional character, Tom Rakewell. They were painted in 1733 by William Hogarth. Tom inherits a fortune from his misery father but then descends into a life of vice and destruction – it was a story of morality common at the time.

[4] Brass monkeys refers to extremely cold weather, and comes from the charming phrase 'it's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.'

[5] The firework display and festivities on Guy Fawkes night (November 5th) at Southwark Park are free, but ticketed, because they are so popular – probably the most popular fireworks display in London.


	16. Chapter 15

A/N This was written intermittently over the weekend, during several train journeys and on my phone during lunchtime – I was away doing a refresher course as a Marine Mammal Medic, which meant I was knackered at the end of each day. That said, the bits that are a little convoluted are meant to be so. Let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy! x

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The next morning was spent lounging about the house in comfortable clothes. By mid-morning, Lizzie was finishing some work for uni she had not yet done, Richard was doing some paperwork and Georgiana was pottering about the kitchen. Will had tried to do some school work, but could not settle, so attempted to tackle the long list of emails he needed to respond to. He gave up ten minutes later, and sat twiddling his thumbs next to Lizzie. Then he jumped up and fiddled with the curtains; then he turned the light off, but turned it back on again straight away.

"For the love of all that is good and pure in this world, would you _please_ sit down," Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Ah," smiled Richard, "Is this your first introduction to Will on a Sunday with nothing to do?" Will glared at him from across the room. "It is unbearable, isn't it."

"Can't you read a book or something, turn the TV on – it will be less distracting than your fidgeting," Lizzie asked her boyfriend. He sighed dramatically, but capitulated, reaching for a book on the coffee table in front of them. He managed to keep his attention on the book for three whole pages, before his leg began to jig, and his foot tapped along with an erratic rhythm.

"For God's sake, Will, go for a walk or something, get this restlessness out of your system," Elizabeth told him. "Or run up and down the stairs a couple of times, just do _something._ " She was close to tearing her hair out with his fidgeting.

"Or you could put that work down and do something with me," Will retorted. It was Elizabeth's turn to sigh.

"I told you when I agreed to come here with you that I would have work to do. If you let me finish it, I will be able to do something after." Richard sniggered from his place at a desk in the corner.

"Just a reminder, there are other people in the house who do not want to have to have to hear you 'doing something.'" It was Elizabeth's turn to glare at him.

"Thank you, Richard, it had completely slipped my mind," she retorted witheringly. In the end, Will had left Lizzie to her work, going to the kitchen to badger Georgie under the guise of 'helping' her make lunch. After they had eaten, the four of them reconvened to the lounge to watch a movie. Once Will was cuddled up next Lizzie on the sofa, he finally stopped fidgeting, as he wrapped one arm around her waist and laced the fingers of his other hand though hers.

"Apparently, all we needed to stop Will's 'bear with a sore head' routine was a Lizzie for him to snuggle. Perhaps we can get him a stuffed version for when you are not here," Richard suggested.

"Shup up, _Dick,_ " Will snapped.

"Shut up the lot of you," Georgiana yelled, "Some of us actually want to watch this film." Lizzie just giggled and tucked her head under Will's chin.

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After their weekend in London, Will and Elizabeth's relationship was doing better than ever. Elizabeth had finally found a flat to move into – she hadn't found a nice house with friendly people, so she was moving into a box-like but pleasant apartment by herself. But while they were spending more and more time together, doing the everyday, mundane things together which strengthen a relationship with their simple joys, the nights were increasingly becoming an issue. Lizzie felt very awkward about spending a night in a room adjacent to Will's sister's. The problem was, together, the couple were quite… loud. And while Will was not too troubled by night-time activities in the same house as his sister, he was very protective of her, and did not like to leave her alone so he could spend the night at Lizzie's. The whole situation left them in quite a bind as far as sleeping arrangements went, but it only meant they got more creative during the day.

It was after a rendezvous on Saturday afternoon – while Georgie was at a friend's house – that Will asked Elizabeth to spend Christmas with him and his sister. And their cousin. As well as a significant portion of their extended family. Elizabeth managed to bluff her way out of answering, before distracting Will with a few heated kisses. It was only when she back at her flat, alone, that the turmoil she was feeling became visible on her face.

She was absolutely conflicted. On one hand, this gave her an easy excuse for not going to the Bennet's for Christmas. While she loved her sisters, and enjoyed spending time with her Dad, the presence of her stepmother made any large occasion in the Bennet household a ticking time bomb. Elizabeth suspected that Jane would be spending the holiday season with Charlie, so that was one less person to weigh in on the Bennet side of the scales. In recent years, Elizabeth had spent most Christmases with her godfather and his family, but this year her godfather's mother-in-law, who was sickly and high maintenance – so Elizabeth had been advised (out of his wife's hearing) that the elderly lady was best avoid. So really, spending the festive season with Will and his family would save her from her only other options – with the stepmother she hated or along in her flat.

But spending Christmas with somebody was a big step. Even more so when you would meet their extended family. She had never before had a relationship with such serious implications – she had not given the idea of commitment any degree of thought beyond clarifying that neither of them would be seeing other people. And if she spent the Christmas holidays with her boyfriend at his aunt and uncle's estate, she was effectively telling everyone that she and Will were committed to each other. And while Elizabeth wouldn't say they were not committed, neither would she say their relationship was quite that far along.

That it would be at his uncle and aunt's _estate_ was not lost on her either. By starting a relationship with Will, Lizzie was entering a world she could barely imagine existed, let alone be comfortable with. Her boyfriend had a two bedroom flat in a nice area of the town, which alone was beyond her, but he also had a lavish house on an expensive street in London as well as a manor and large estate somewhere in the wilds of Derbyshire.

Will never seemed to notice how uncomfortable Elizabeth was with the wealth and power he had at his fingertips. While she was staying at his house in London she almost managed to forget how obscenely decadent it was to live in such a house, in such an area, because the Darcy's and Richard acted like it was the most normal thing in the world – which it was, to them. But once they had returned to Meryton, Elizabeth was faced with the reality of the difference in their means, and their subsequent outlook on life. Most of the time, she was able to ignore it or pretend it did not exist, but when Will asked her to stay for Christmas, it became blindingly obvious that she was not ready for the lifestyle Will was accustomed to. The question of Christmas presents alone was one which sent Elizabeth into a spiral of panic. Between rent, utilities and food, Elizabeth did not have much money left out the small amount of money her godfather sent her, and the waitressing jobs she picked up when she could. She was used to finding gifts for her loved ones that were thoughtful but inexpensive – she was not sure if those were the sort of gifts the Darcys and Fitzwilliams gave. She doubted it. Not with the fortunes they had at their fingertips.

Despite the whirl of doubts swirling around her head, when Will phoned her, as usual, when they were both in bed, she did not voice them. Anytime she had tried to bring up the subject before, he had brushed off her concerns as though they were nothing. And while she tried to believe that he was right, that her concerns were insignificant, his dismissal of her feelings did not reassure that there was nothing wrong.

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At the beginning of December, a Christmas market sprung up in to town centre. Will and Elizabeth had decided to visit, and it was as they were wandering, hand in hand, through the festive throng, that Lizzie broached the subject of the holidays.

"When are you going to leave for your aunt and uncle's?" she queried, her tone innocuous.

"The Saturday after Georgie breaks up. That gives us almost a week before Christmas there. I think we will stay a few days after boxing day, then spend New Year's at Pemberley. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Will had phrased it as a question, but his tone was very self-assured, as though he could not imagine that she would disagree with his plans.

"Yeah. You don't have anywhere you need to be after Christmas, do you? We can go straight to Pemberley from Milton Hall." [1]

"Will, I haven't decided if I am going to come with you guys yet." A small furrow had developed between Elizabeth's brow.

"Why wouldn't you come, Lizzie. You said Jane is doing Christmas at Charlie's, and we both know that you don't want to go to your father's. It is the best solution, and it works for both of us."

"Firstly, I have never actually said it works for me, you just decided it did," Lizzie countered sharply. "And I just think that it may be a bit too much – you know, meeting so much of your family and spending a significant holiday together. We have only been dating since September. Maybe it is just a bit too soon for that stuff."

"I don't see what the issue is here. If you don't come with me and Georgie, you will just be spending the holiday alone in your flat. There is plenty of room at Milton Hall, and you will love Pemberley, I know you will."

Elizabeth found herself stuck in a tricky situation. With the way Will was behaving, she did not want to concede to his reasoning – she knew he would be smug about it, and think he could behave like this any time he thought he knew better than her. At the same time, in some respects, he was correct. She did not want to go to her father's house, and she did not have anywhere else to go. While she still thought it was too soon for such big steps, she did not want to spend an important holiday like Christmas alone.

In the end, she decided to give in, but made sure Will did not get away with lording it over her. Later on, when they stopped at a German food stall, Will told her she should have the red sausage – he had tried them in Berlin, and though they were the best. Lizzie shot a glare at him, and ordered the chicken schnitzel.

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A week later, Darcy and Lizzie were cuddled on the sofa in Will's living room, ignoring the mindless evening TV that was playing in the background. A thought occurred to her suddenly, and she sat up slightly.

"What do you consider cheating?"

"Sorry, what?" Will coughed, as he sat himself up until they were facing each other.

"What do you consider cheating?"

"Where had this come from Elizabeth?" A look of realisation suddenly appeared on Lizzie's face.

"Oh, no, no, I don't think you are cheating, this isn't an accusation." Will exhaled the breath he had been holding. "I just think we need to talk about this. I mean, we said we would not see other people, but we didn't actually define what that meant. Like, I assume we both think going on a date or sleeping with someone else is cheating, but what else do you include?"

"Uh, well, sending, you know, pictures of, stuff?" Will nervously rubbed the back of his head with the hand that was not holding Lizzie's.

"This isn't a test, Will," Elizabeth sighed. "I just need to know what our boundaries are."

"Okay," Will finally capitulated, "Any inappropriate texting or calling, going out with someone, kissing and anything more – I consider those cheating."

"See, now we are on the same page. I agree with all those things, we just have to make sure that when we think we agree, we _actually_ agree. It is all in the details." Elizabeth placed a playful kiss on the end of Will's nose, and snuggled her head back into his chest. "Serious conversation over, we can now resume cutesy nonsense." But before it could go any further, there came a muffled scream from the direction of Georgiana's bedroom. Will quickly pushed Lizzie away and ran to his sister.

Georgiana was half sitting up in bed, a look of frantic panic in her eyes. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, uncertain about how she could help, while Will gathered Georgie into his arms. He gently rocked her to and fro, shushing her soothingly as she hiccoughed sobs into his shoulder. Once she had calmed down, he asked,

"Was it the same one as last time?" Georgie nodded jerkily.

"Bu-but the table wasn't there, and they j-just went on f-forever, and I k-kept falling." She started crying again, so Will resumed his swaying and began stroking her hair. Elizabeth made her way over from the door to ask,

"Do you want me to get a glass of water, or something?" But as she spoke, Georgiana's shoulders tensed, and she hid her face in her brother's chest. Will scowled fiercely.

"Can you leave pleased," Will whispered harshly. It was not a question.

"But would you like me to…"

"Get out Elizabeth," he interrupted. "You need to leave." Lizzie froze, staring at him for a few seconds with wide, hurt eyes, before she turned on her heels and left.

When Will emerged for Georgie's bedroom an hour later, Elizabeth had fallen asleep in an awkward position on the sofa. Will quietly turned off the television and gently scooped Lizzie up; as he carried her to his bedroom, her eyes blinked open blearily.

"It is too late for you to go home, stay here tonight." By the time he had placed Lizzie on his bed, she was more awake.

"Are we going talk about what happened?"

"What would we talk about. It is none of your business." His tone was snippy.

"Come on Will, I understand it might be private, you don't have to give me details, but something obviously traumatic happened to Georgie to give her such horrible nightmares. – I would hazard a guess and say that it is about when she got those scars. I just want to know so I can avoid saying anything insensitive or triggering, you know?"

"You want to know what not to do? Don't bring it up, that's what." He climbed into bed next to her, but did not curl up against her as her usually did. Instead, he lay ramrod straight under the covers.

"I understand it is a difficult topic, Will. But surely you gave give me some indication of what that was all about?"

"Just drop it Lizzie."

Elizabeth sighed to herself, and shifted so she was facing away form Will. She was trying very hard to dismiss her boyfriend's cold manner as linked to something upsetting. She was also doing her best not to push. But she had already done something wrong the first time she met Georgie, and she really did not want it to happen again. From the sound of her scream, it was something very distressing, and now Lizzie was scared her younger friend had been attacked, even possibly raped. It was a terrifying thought. Elizabeth resolved to avoid all topics that could possibly trigger a survivor of an attack, and hoped that Will would feel better in the morning – it was clear that he was almost as affected by whatever happened as his sister. She just wished he would learn not to take it out on her.

TBC…

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[1] Milton Hall is a Grade II listed house near Peterborough in Cambridgeshire (it was previously in Northamptonshire until the boundary shifted). It is the historical seat of the Fitzwilliam family, dating back to 1594. The manor was in the hands of the Fitzwilliams after it was bought in 1502 by Sir William Fitzwilliam, a wealthy merchant from an established Yorkshire family. The bigger titles did not come until later.

The other family seat of the Fitzwilliams was Wentworth Woodhouse, in Wentworth, South Yorkshire – it is the largest private house in the UK, baring the royal residences. It was inherited by the Earls Fitzwilliam in the 18th century from the Watson-Wentworths, after the daughter of Thomas Watson-Wentworth, 1st Marquess of Rockingham, and sister of Charles Watson-Wentworth, 2nd Marquess of Rockingham, Lady Anne Watson-Wentworth married into the family.


	17. Chapter 16

A/N I will be going on holiday next week, and I am not taking my laptop, so there won't be another update for a few weeks. Hopefully this will be enough to tide you over. I will warn you now, this probably isn't going to be easy reading. I really appreciate all of the feedback I have had so far… keep it coming! Enjoy x

Guest 89 – Thanks for your review, but I cannot spend every chapter wallowing in a deep connection between D and E, because no relationship is easy and meaningful all the time. It is not smooth sailing ahead!

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The following morning, Will woke Lizzie up with a gentle kiss to her lips – as he always did. He made her a cup of coffee, which he left on the chest of draws to be there when she got out of the shower – as he always did. When she sat at the table in the kitchen with Georgie, who avoided her eyes, Will made pleasant conversation before leaving to pack his things for university – as he always did. The entire situation made Lizzie very uncomfortable.

He was pretending the previous night had never happened. As Will drove them to the university for the morning lectures, Elizabeth decided to tentatively broach to subject.

"Will, I understand that last night was difficult for you – I feel like I would be better equipped to deal with something like that happening again if you could talk to me about it."

"Leave it alone Lizzie." Unlike the night before, Will's tone was not harsh, but it was uninviting.

"I just feel that…"

"I said leave it alone Elizabeth!" This time he raised his volume and frustration crept into his words as he slammed the heel of one hand against the steering wheel. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't _need_ to talk about it, and it is none of your business."

As hard as Lizzie tried to see where Will was coming from, as much as she wanted to understand all the anger he was directing at her, he was simply not giving her enough information to do so.

"You don't trust me, do you?"

"Don't make this about you, Elizabeth. God, you are so selfish." Elizabeth's eyes quickly widened and filled with tears which fought to burst out and flow quickly down her cheeks, but instead stayed, barely controlled.

"I can't believe you would say that to me," she whispered hoarsely. "I am trying to be the better person here Will, I am trying to help you, understand you, even though you have been so mean."

Darcy scoffed at her. "Now you are just being childish. For God's sake, I am not being mean, you just need to know when to keep your nose out of where it doesn't belong."

Elizabeth just didn't know how to react. She knew how to do indignant anger – she had shown that the first day she met Will. And she knew how to ignore an issue, pretend it didn't exist, just let the person involved ease out of her life until the issue was not an issue because the person was not in her life anymore. She knew how to stew angrily for several weeks until the other person made overtures of reconciliation – as had happened after her argument with Charlotte.

But did she know how to behave when a man she had emotionally invested in turned into another man entirely when asked questions he did not want to answer? No. She had never had feelings so strong for a man before. She had never been faced with a situation anything like this before.

In the end, she was silent.

The moment Will reached a stop at the university, Elizabeth sprung out of the car without a goodbye and all but ran into the building. She ignored the man, the stranger, calling her name from behind her. She held her emotions tightly in check though the morning's lectures – she took comprehensive notes that she could read though when she actually felt able to take them in – her education was too important to her to let her boyfriend's behaviour take priority.

At lunch time, she cried in the toilets, then she splashed some cold water on her face and went to her afternoon laboratory session. When she finally made her way to her tiny flat at the end of the day, she found Will sitting outside her door, a large box of chocolates next to him.

"Lizzie…" he started as he sprang up.

"I can't even look at you right now, Will, please don't." Elizabeth dug her keys from the bottom of her bag and unlocked her door without making eye contact, but she did let him in.

"I don't know how to do this, Will," she told him with a sigh as she threw her bag to the floor with a thump. "You don't get to treat me like that."

"I know, Lizzie," he said as he crossed her tiny main room, "I am so sorry for how I behaved, it was abominable of me."

"I know. I was there."

"Yes, of course you were. You saw how I get when it comes to Georgiana – I just, I lose it. And I am so sorry I spoke to you that way." He held out the chocolates for her, which she took without thought, but immediately threw them down on the counter.

"This seems awfully familiar, Will." He shook his head at her with confusion, so she gestured to the fancy box.

"You get 'how you get' about your sister, you are rude to me, then you turn up here with an expensive gift, and everything goes back to normal."

"I know, and it won't happen again I promise."

"You cannot treat me like that Will."

"I know, I know, I won't, not again." He moved to embrace her, but she stepped out of the way.

"And you need to see someone. Professionally. You obviously can't talk to me, but you need to talk to someone." Will made to object, but Elizabeth carried straight on. "I am not going to give you an ultimatum, but it would mean a lot to me if you at least tried to sort this out. Surely you can see how much whatever happened still affects you."

"I will find someone to talk to…"

"A professional?"

"A professional – and what happened last night and this morning will not happen again. I promise."

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After that argument, Will and Elizabeth carried on as they had before. Will did not bring it up, and Elizabeth was too wary of disrupting the balance they had established to start that conversation. The situation was pushed from her mind when Will and Charlie organised a surprise for their girlfriends – as there were not going to be spending Christmas, they thought it would be nice to get the sisters together. Will drove Lizzie to Charlie's house under the impression that they would just be hanging out as usual, so she was shocked when Charlie led her into a house decorated with bright tinsel and multi coloured fairy lights, and she saw Jane sitting under the Christmas tree.

"Surprise!" the blonde shouted as she jumped up to engulf her sister in an enormous hug.

"What are you doing here?" Lizzie laughed as she wrapped her arms around Jane.

"We won't be spending Christmas together, so we are going to have a little Christmas here, now. We have turkey and everything."

"Sage and onion stuffing?" Lizzie begged.

"I would not forget the sage and onion stuffing," Jane replied. As children, if their Mum was home for Christmas, she would cook two enormous trays of sage and onion stuffing. They would still be eating it well into the new year, but having stuffing coming out of their ears became an integral part of Christmas. Angelina Bennet never made it – she did not like the texture.

They day was spend in pre-emptive festive merriment. Everybody pitched in to cook the dinner, although Charlie was only allowed to peel vegetables for fear of accident or catastrophic injury, and the enormous feast was laid out on the long hard-wood table in the dining room. Jane had found two tall, silver candlesticks, and Charlie pulled out a box of expensive-looking Christmas crackers. In an elaborate plan by Charlie, each person crossed their arms and reached for the person next to them to pull them, so they made a square of arms and crackers, and they pulled them simultaneously. The result was less successful than Charlie had hoped – Will knocked over his glass as he yanked the cracker he was pulling with Jane over the table, and Lizzie fell off her chair when Charlie let go of the one he was holding with her, having won the one he was pulling with Jane. Jane laughed softly as Elizabeth picked herself off the floor and Charlie rushed to find kitchen roll to help Will mopped up his spilled red wine.

"Charlie, I don't think you are going to get that out of the table cloth, unless you get it dry cleaned or something."

"I don't mind, I'll just get a new one…"

"Oh!" Jane interjected excitedly, "There is this wonderful linen shop not far from the surgery that do the most gorgeous table cloths and things, I will have to show you next time you come down." Will frowned slightly to himself, but nobody was paying enough attention to notice. The exchange was interrupted as Lizzie exclaimed,

"My hat is yellow, I can't have a yellow hat, I look awful in yellow. Janie, swap with me, please." Charlie looked outraged.

"You can't swap hats. It doesn't work like that, Lizzie, honestly, are you a heathen?" Will barked a laugh, and demanded with a grin,

"Are you calling my girlfriend a heathen?"

"Yes! She thinks you can swap the hats that come out of crackers. If that is not the definition of heathen, I don't know what is!" By this time, everyone but Charlie had seated themselves, but he was too far gone on his crusade of Christmas crackers. "You get what you win, and that is that. It is the way crackers have always worked, and I will not let one woman pervert tradition."

"It's alright mate, I won't swap the godawful yellow hat," Elizabeth told him. "Now sit down, I want to eat." Jane tugged him down into his chair next to her, and the dinner continued with laughter, silliness and bad cracker jokes.

After they had stuffed themselves into immobility, the two couples collapsed onto each sofa.

"We need to have Christmas telly" Charlie whined. "It isn't Christmas unless there is Christmas telly." Lizzie laughed at him, then pulled a silly face when he sneered at her.

"Given that it's not Christmas for several weeks, there isn't going to be any Christmas telly, is there?" Charlie pulled a face back at her, and the conversation was on the verge of descending into childish squabbling before Jane interrupted.

"I am sure there is a channel showing Christmas films, let me have a look." Jane flicked through the channels as Will pinched the bridge of his nose. Elizabeth leaned towards him, concerned.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

"Headache," he groaned through his teeth. "Came out of nowhere, won't go away."

"Oooh, look Lizzie, Die Hard," Jane exclaimed.

"I've got some paracetamol in my bag - do you want me to go and get it?"

"No, it's alright, I can get it – I know how much you love Die Hard." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and winced as he stood up. "Lizzie… what does your handbag look like?" Elizabeth snorted.

"Brown, and handbag shaped. How long have we been going out? You haven't noticed the bag I have with me basically all of the time?"

"Why would I notice your bag when I find myself so distracted by your captivating eyes," He murmured with a sultry roll of his tongue. Lizzie snorted again.

"Go and get the painkillers from my bag, _charmer_."

When Will came back a few minutes later, he looked preoccupied, and if his girlfriend had been looking, she would have recognised he glint in his eyes as that which appeared when he was gnawing on a particularly frustrating problem. But her favourite film was on, and she was floating in a hazy, food-induced stupor, so she did not notice.

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Three days later, Elizabeth received a phone called from Jane. Charlie had broken up with her.

"He walked me into my flat, made sure I had all my bags, and just broke it off," the blonde had sobbed. "He said we were in different places in our lives and the relationship, and he thought we wanted different things, so we should take a break. And I asked him if he meant take a break or _take a break_ , and he said that maybe I shouldn't call him. But I don't understand, because we don't want different things – we talked about all of this at the weekend, and he didn't say anything then."

Elizabeth was ready to speed down to London for comfort ice cream and tears, but Jane told her she did not want Lizzie to miss any classes. She then offered to go around to Charlie's to 'sort him out' but Jane dissuaded her from any violent action.

"It isn't Charlie's fault," Jane had hiccoughed, "I am sure that he just got a little insecure or uncertain or something – he has never really had a long-term relationship. But I am sure he will realise he was worrying about nothing; he will ring me tomorrow and tell me it was all a misunderstanding."

Charlie did not call Jane the next day. Nor the next. By the end of the week, Jane reported no contact at all from the redhead. Elizabeth brought it up with Will when they met for lunch on the last day of term.

"I am so worried about the both of them. Well, I am pissed at Charlie, but I am worried about them both. It was just so sudden – and I haven't seen Charlie since our Christmas do to ask him."

"I saw him yesterday."

"You saw him? How was he?"

"Alright, I guess. Coping."

"Why didn't you tell me you saw him?"

"Well it's your sister, isn't it? It's is not exactly easy – with the taking sides and all."

"There aren't sides, Will, Charlie is my friend as well, I just want this whole mess to be resolved so they can be happy together again." Will looked uncomfortable.

"Maybe it would be better if they did not get back together. You said Jane told you the Charlie thought they were in different places in the relationship. It doesn't work when people want different things."

"But you saw how happy they were on Saturday! And Jane hadn't told Charlie yet, but she has handed in her three month notice in at the surgery – she wants to find a job closer to him. How can you think they shouldn't get back together?"

"Let's just say I spoke to Charlie, and I don't believe his reasoning was entirely wrong. That is all I am going to say on the subject – Charlie talked to me in confidence."

"But of course he was wrong." Elizabeth couldn't believe Will was defending Charlie. "They were happy, and in love…"

"And with different motivations, and with different ideas about their relationship."

"What do you mean, motivations?"

"Lizzie, I am going to say anymore. Charlie trusts me not to betray his confidence."

"'Different motivations' is an unusual phrase to use, though," Elizabeth was now very concerned. "What made you say it?"

"Look, Elizabeth, if you want to know about Jane and Charlie's issues, you have to talk to Jane or Charlie." Will made sure that was the end of the matter.

TBC…


	18. Chapter 17

A/N Wow, guys – this story now has over 200 followers. This is my first novel length story, so I am chuffed! On that note, a shameless little plug for myself: go check out my two one-shots, **Socialisation Exercise** and **Unexpected Guests** , I would love to hear what everyone thinks of them.

I had an amazing time on holiday – if I have any Italian readers, amo il tuo paese! – but I have started my summer job, running a smallholding for a lady who is having surgery… which means I am looking after three horses, one of whom I will be schooling, as well as exercising an old Labrador and socialising a ten-week-old puppy. This does not include all the other miscellaneous animals. I work all day, seven days a week, which means time for writing is a bit scarce – it will mean my updates may not be as regular as they have been. But don't worry, I am too invested in this story to go very long without writing at least a little. I hope you can bear with me while I am up to my eyeballs, I am afraid I love my job too much to give it up just for this story.

This is a bit of a filler chapter, but is very important because of where the story is going to go next. Have a read and let me know your thoughts x

 **Nancyjeanne** – You're a smart one! Hmm, I wonder too…

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Once Will and Elizabeth's lectures were over for Christmas and Georgiana's school had broken up, preparations were underway for the trip to Cambridgeshire – one could be forgiven for assuming the Darcys were moving house, given the amount that Georgie was trying to pack, but Will was having none of it.

"You don't need three handbags, Georgie, heck, you barely even need one.

"When are you going to find the time to wear _that many_ pairs of shoes? You'll need two at most, you have a load of shoes there already.

"Georgie, you don't go through that many tampons in three months – why would you pack five big boxes? There are shops there, you know.

"Ten books? You are not going to read ten books in two weeks, no matter how hard you try to convince me you are. Put them back.

"Nobody need that much shampoo. Not that you actually need any anyway – Aunt Joyce always has load of toiletries.

"Lizzie, please can you tell my sister that she doesn't need to pack two suitcases stuffed to bursting point full of clothes."

Elizabeth laughed from her perch on the arm of the sofa at the spectacle unfolding in front of her. "To be fair Georgie, nobody needs to travel with that many pairs of trousers."

"Especially," Will added, "when we will be going on to Pemberley, where you have an entire wardrobe. Look at Lizzie's suitcase," he pointed at the garishly lime-green but small suitcase balancing precariously on its wheels by the door, "She is not going to her aunt's house where she already has shoes and clothes, nor is going on to her home where she has clothes coming out of her ears. Pack a few jumpers and a couple of jeans – sorted." Georgiana grumbled and moaned, but eventually took one of the suitcases back to her room, and began removing things from the other one, until it was marginally less overstuffed.

What should be have been a relatively short car journey was turned into a tortuous drive when two of the three lanes of the A1 were closed. [1] Two and a half hour in, Darcy was beginning to get antsy.

"We have been sat in this car for two and a half hours – we should have been there an hour ago! What sort of idiot drives their van into a lorry," he grumbled, thumbing the heel of his hand repeatedly on the steering wheel, "some of us have places to be." Elizabeth turned around in the passenger seat so she could see Georgiana, who was sitting behind her.

"A word of advice, my dear, you never truly know a man until you see him stuck in traffic." Georgiana laughed, as Will scowled at his girlfriend.

"We have barely moved twenty metres in the last fifteen minutes, Lizzie, my frustration is justified."

"Look Georgie, his little tantrum is _justified,_ that's what you should say to him next time he tells you off for slamming your door," Lizzie sniggered. It was Georgie's turn to look outraged.

"You told your girlfriend I slam doors?" she yelled accusingly. The panic that overcame Will's expression prompted Elizabeth to chortle again.

"I didn't say that, no, I just said, you see, it was just after, you know what, never mind." He pretended the lines of traffic in front of them required his absolute attention, and reached out blindly to turn the radio up. Elizabeth giggled, and patted his arm.

"It is alright Will. I'll stop now."

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They had been driving through parkland for almost ten minutes. Or more accurately, they had entered the estate 10 minutes before, driven for two minutes, stopped for five minutes for Will to take some photos of the light through the leaves of the oak trees, and then they carried on. As the car rounded the bend, Elizabeth gasped.

"Holy mother of flipping hecks." Will grinned at her and gestured at the stately rising in front of them.

"Pretty awesome, isn't it?"

"People actually live in there? Like, people you are related to?" Elizabeth could barely comprehend the sight in front of her. Milton Hall, as Will had told her it was called, was an enormous, yellow-beige building, with three stories of tall, majestic windows. Numerous chimneys reached into the sky and the looming entrance was stately and imposing. The green in front of the house was manicured and perfectly level, and extended until it reached a well-establish, dark green hedge, which ran parallel to the house.

"This is where my mother grew up, as well as the other home in Yorkshire."

"They have another of these in Yorkshire?" Elizabeth asked faintly.

"Yep, Wentworth Woodhouse. That is a lovely estate, very big though, bigger than this." Before Elizabeth could articulate her disbelief, two Labradors – one black, one fox red - came bounding round the side of the house and up to the car. Georgie squealed,

"Cody! Freddy!" and flung her door open, so the two dogs could lick her in greeting. Elizabeth got out of the car, and knelt down to greet the wagging dogs. When she looked up, she saw a balding man dressed in tweed and wellies, striding towards them. He whistled for the dogs, who bounced over to him, and Georgie leapt up to throw her arms around him.

"Uncle Tom!" she cried. Will emerged from the other side of the car to shake his uncle's hand vigorously.

"Well, my boy, are you going to introduce us?" the older man asked him.

"Uncle Tom, this is my girlfriend Elizabeth Bennet. Lizzie, my uncle Tom." [2]

Tom shook her hand and kissed both of her cheeks soundly, as she laughed. "Everyone is inside already – we expected you hours ago." Lizzie broke into another round of giggles, as Will mock glared at her.

"We hit some unexpected traffic," she explained.

Having left their suitcases in the hall, they were led though an incredible arching entrance, where the hallway was at least three times the height of a person, and the ceiling was decorated with gilded plaster flowers. The rooms were spacious and light, and decorated in a much more modern style than she had expected. The only other times she had been in rooms like these were when she had visited English Heritage properties as a child – the rooms had all looked as though they had been kept untouched since the last time they were inhabited, which was usually the twenties or thirties. [3] Elizabeth was trying very hard not to be uncomfortable in such a decadent place. It was similar to the feeling she had had when visiting Will's house in London, but many more times stronger – Georgiana and her brother were behaving as though your relatives having vast estates was normal, when the opposite could not be more true. It troubled her to see so much wealth in one place.

They finally reached a sitting room with a vaulted ceiling, where a group of people were scattered around on an eclectic collection of furniture. An older lady with dark grey hair and a thin, pointed nose rose gracefully from her seat and met them by the doorway.

"William, Georgiana darling, how are the two of you? And just look at this lovely lady with you, you must be Elizabeth, how absolutely delightful to meet you. Has anyone ever told you you have the most enchanting eyes?" Elizabeth threw Will a sideways glance with a soft smile, and replied,

"Will might have mentioned it once or twice." The man in question moved to stand beside her to make introductions.

"Lizzie, this is my Aunt Joyce," he said, "Over there we have Alistair, Richard's older brother and the oldest of the lot of us." The man in question nodded to them but did not get up. "He is not very good with people, please excuse his bad social skills," Will stage whispered to her. Alistair just laughed and stuck two fingers up at him.

"Alistair, we have guests, don't be rude," his mother hissed at him.

"Next to Alistair is Florence, Richard's younger sister," the dark-haired woman rose to shake her hand, "and Flo's husband, Radcliffe," waved as he held a squirming toddler, "and their daughter Mia."

"It is lovely to meet you all," Elizabeth told them, "Is Richard not here?"

"He won't be coming down until Christmas Eve, I am afraid – they will not let him take too much time off," Joyce explained. Georgiana suddenly thumped Will in the side of the arm and huffed at him,

"You need to do the animals."

"Ah yes, of course, the animals. First the dogs – you have already met Cody and Freddy," Lizzie had not realised the Labradors had followed them into the house, but they were lying on a patchwork of blankets in the corner of the room. "Then we have Jasper, the springer spaniel," Jasper picked his brown and white head up at the sound of his name, but lay it back down when he was not called over. "The Rottweiler is Sadie, and last but not least, the dachshund contingent – Milly, Molly and Maisie."

"We will be very impressed if you can learn to tell them apart," Florence commented, "sometimes even we get them muddled."

"They are not in here, but I am sure you will come across the cats," Will continued, "but the tortoiseshell is Loki and the tabby is Lola." Tom interrupted to ask,

"Do you ride? We have a few horses as well – Will told us you like animals."

"I love animals, and yes I ride. I would love to see your stables some time" Elizabeth replied. Later on, she asked Will,

"When your uncle said they have a few horses, how many did he actually mean?"

"At last count, I think it was thirty."

"Holy shit. You lot love your understatement. Sheesh."

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The bedroom Will had led her to was painted a pale blue, with royal blue curtains hanging either side of the tall window and accents of blue on the white bedspread and pillows. The bed had a dark wooden frame, the headboard did not have any padding, and the other furniture was a similar deep brown. Elizabeth thought it suited Will very well.

"We all have our own room here – Auntie Joyce did them up so they were personalised, and we keep stuff here."

"That's lovely, so it's like you can just pop in at any time, and everything would be ready for you?"

"That is exactly the point. She likes to think of this being a home for everyone, even if we didn't actually grow up here." Will did not seem to comprehend how incredible Elizabeth thought it was to have a guaranteed home, no matter where he went – and that was not taking into account the two homes _he_ owned.

"I can't imagine that, I mean, the home in one place for always. I get restless if I don't move around, with the number of different places I lived in as a kid." Darcy had a faintly disapproving frown above his eyes.

"Really, a child needs a stable familiar environment to grow up in, your parents shouldn't have dragged you around the country like that." Elizabeth immediately felt defensive.

"You might be lucky enough to have houses all over the place, but I have the comfort of knowing that across the country, and in Cyprus, and in Germany, there is a little bit of home just for me. Not a house, but a feeling of home. That is good enough for me." Will did not look persuaded.

"Yes, but given your parents income you were at a disadvantage, and it can't have been healthy for you emotionally when…" Elizabeth cut him off sharply.

"I think some other things happened which were a little more emotionally damaging than moving house, don't you think," she sneered with pointed look. Will had the good sense to look sheepish. "And with the military comes an entire family, and that is more valuable to me than a static arrangement of bricks and mortar." Having finally caught on to Elizabeth's gradually worsening mood, Will hastily changed the subject to something more innocuous, and the tense atmosphere eventually dissipated.

Elizabeth enjoyed dinner enormously. The manor house had a magnificent conservatory, and the meal was eaten on a long table which had moved into the glass room for the soul purpose of fitting the entire family. As they tucked into a hearty meal of cottage pie and assorted vegetables prepared by the housekeeper and cook, under the canopy of tall conservatory plants, with dogs milling about the room – though they were too well-mannered to beg at the table – she allowed herself a cheeky thought… _I suppose, once in a while, the high life isn't_ that _bad…_

TBC…

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[1] The A1 is the longest road in the UK, running for 410 miles between London and Edinburgh (the capital of Scotland).

[2] William Thomas George Wentworth-Fitzwilliam, known as Tom, was the 10th and last Earl Fitzwilliam. He was born 28 May 1904 and died 21 September 1979. For the sake of this story, he was born later and has not died. Disclaimer: I will be using his name and his wife's name (Joyce Elizabeth Mary Langdale) but the characters I am writing are not based on the real people. For example, Tom and Joyce had no children - I have given them three.

[3] English Heritage is a charity that looks after the National Heritage Collection – over 400 historic buildings, monuments and follies. In 2015, it split into Historic England, which inherited the statutory and protection functions of the old organisation, and the new English Heritage Trust, a charity that operates the historic properties.


	19. Chapter 18

A/N Wow, this was hard to write. And yet, very easy at the same time.

Here it is guys, the moment you have all been waiting for…

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The few days leading up to Christmas were spent in pleasantly with the whole family. Elizabeth was never alone – if she was not with Will or Georgiana, she was with a Fitzwilliam or one of the Fitzwilliam pets. This had been lovely, the first couple of days, but after a while it had started to grate on her nerves. Elizabeth was used to her own company, and always had been. Since she had moved into her tiny apartment, she had come to love having her own quiet space.

On top of her irritation about the constant company, Jane had been calling her most days. Elizabeth loved her sister, but she was quickly becoming frustrated with her mood swings. Jane would call to sniffle and cry, which Elizabeth could sympathise with, but she would then go on to reassure Lizzie that it was just a break, and Charlie would call her that afternoon. He never did. While she could not blame Jane for being hopeful, Lizzie knew that her sister was kidding herself. Elizabeth tried to explain what Will had told her – that Charlie had serious doubts about the future of the relationship, and did not seem to want to wait until it all went downhill. Even in the face of this, Jane continued in her strange bubble of upset but persistent.

The day before Christmas Eve, Richard finally arrived from London. His appearance was met with great fanfare from the family – apparently the middle Fitzwilliam child did not make it home very often. After an early dinner of antipasti, smoked salmon and brown bread, Will was occupied with some urgent business that had arisen earlier in the day, so when Richard offered to take a walk with her, she accepted. They chatted casually for a while, and the conversation meandered through familiar topics – family, school, work and such. Elizabeth was explaining that her sister had recently been going through a break up, though said sister would not accept it was a break up, and Richard observed that while Christmastime was a horrible time to break up, quite a few people had.

"Will was telling me about his friend Charlie, you might know him? He is at Meryton with you, I think."

"Yes, I know Charlie - actually, he was..."

"Will was saying how he had to get Charlie out of a tight spot, and in the end Charlie had to break up with her." Lizzie was too confused by his phrasing to push the subject, but Richard carried on regardless. "Apparently, the girl was getting ahead of herself, talking about marriage and things – they had only been going out less than a year – and Will hinted at having evidence that she was a bit of a gold digger, so he convinced Charlie to get rid of her before it was too late."

Elizabeth could barely comprehend it. On the walk back to the manor house, she did not notice the conversation fizzled out and the atmosphere grew tense; she was too busy trying to grasp the idea that not only was Will instrumental in Charlie's break up with her sister, but that he had effectively lied to her about it. After a few minutes of silence, Richard asked if she was alright, but Lizzie brushed away his concerns, replying that she just had a small headache. When they reached the house, her companion enquired if she need to go to her room to lie down or lower the lights but she did not want to be alone – Lizzie was embroiled in such intense inner turmoil over what she had just discovered, she was afraid that if she was alone, she would be snap, and break something in her anger. Instead, she resolved to return to the family with Richard, and give herself some time to absorb the information, before she was ready to confront it. She was sure the possibility of having an audience for her anger would be enough to outwardly temper it. For now.

To her relief, Will was not in the sitting room when she entered – he was still on the phone to someone important, she was told. Elizabeth sat herself in the corner, slightly away from the centre of the group, and quietly listened to the conversation.

"The ballroom was opened a few weeks ago for the charity benefit we threw, so we just left everything set up – all the tables and chair are ready," Joyce was telling the women. "The caterers are coming tomorrow morning to set up, which leaves the afternoon for us to get ready. Georgiana, I had the dress you left here last month dry cleaned, I am assuming that is still the one you want to wear?"

"Definitely. I knew I had heels that match it just perfectly in my room here. Oh!" Georgie squealed, "I am so excited!" Will walked in at that moment; Elizabeth avoided his eyes. She saw Florence turn to Georgie to say,

"When I booked the lady to do my hair and makeup, I booked you in as well. Unless you want to do your own?"

"Oh no," Georgie shook her head forcefully. "For something like this, I definitely want to have them done properly." Florence then turned around to she could face Lizzie, who was very confused.

"I am sorry I didn't get you an appointment as well – I am afraid I booked it weeks ago, before we knew you would be coming."

"I am sorry, I don't understand," was Elizabeth's reply, "Why would I need my makeup done? Do you dress up a bit for Christmas Eve or something?" Joyce looked incredibly worried.

"The ball, my dear, we will be dressing up for our Christmas Eve ball – it is a black tie event."

"I'm sorry, what? A ball?" she stuttered.

"Will must have told you, yes?" Georgiana interjected. "When he invited you, he would have told you." Will was oblivious to the whole conversation – when he had come into the room he had opened his laptop and put his earphones in. Elizabeth felt close to tears.

"He didn't say anything about a black-tie ball, I don't have anything like that I could wear." In an attempt to rectify a rapidly deteriorating situation, Joyce offered,

"I am sure we can find you something – we all have enough outfits here that we could dig up a dress and some shoes for you."

"No, no, thank you, I just need to, I just…" As Elizabeth rose, Will finally tore his eyes away from his laptop screen and took his earphones out.

"Lizzie, are you alright?" he asked as she rushed from the room, but she left without answering, so he turned to his sister and relatives and asked,

"What did you say to her, I don't think I have ever seen her look that upset."

"We were just talking about the ball, but she did not seem to know. I think she must have forgotten about it – she said she did not have a dress," Joyce explained. All the blood drained from Will's face, and Georgiana realised,

"You didn't tell her about the ball, did you?" Will did not answer her, he was already running from the room.

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Elizabeth was sat on the edge of the bed she had loved so much since staying in their room. The mattress was somehow both soft and firm, in just the right places; the duvet was the perfect weight and the sheets were silky to the touch. Her elbows were on her knees and her hands cupped they back of her neck – she had adopted a suedo-crash position. When Will flung open the door and rushed into the room, she had finally lost her struggle to hold in her tears.

"Lizzie, I am so sorry," Will began, but Elizabeth raised a hand to stop him.

"Don't Will, just don't. Please."

"But Lizzie, I just forgot to tell you about it – if we go now, we can find somewhere to get you a dress, and it will be fine."

"But it won't be fine, will it. Because it will be a hastily bought dress, which will not compare with what everyone else is wearing because I cannot afford anything more."

"But I can buy you something, so you don't need to worry about that."

"You just don't see, Will, I don't want you to buy me a dress. I have told you how this feels to me," she said, waving her hands to gesture to the surroundings, "this obscene wealth makes me uncomfortable, and you buying me a dress will only make me feel worse."

"I know you said you don't like it, but you'll get used to it, I promise. And I was going to keep this as a surprise until Christmas, but," Will crouched down in front of Elizabeth and took her hands, "You don't need to worry about the money anymore. I spoke to your landlord, and she has agreed to end your contract early – when you move in with me, you won't have to worry about paying the rent and utilities, I will have that covered."

"My God Will," Elizabeth gasped, as she ripped her hands from his to cover her mouth, "What have you done?" A wide grin spread across his face, and his eyes lit up.

"Isn't it incredible. When we get back from Pemberley, Georgie and I can help you pack up, and you can be moved in before the term starts."

"No, no, no, you've ended my contract? How have you even done that – you have nothing to do with it? Oh god," she whispered.

"Well, I confess I had to lubricate her palms a little, but she was amenable to arranging it. I expect you will still have to sign off the end of tenancy agreement, but it has all been sorted out." Elizabeth stood up abruptly, forcing Will to take a step backwards.

"How could you?" she cried. Will just looked confused. "Were you even going to ask me? or were you just going to make a decision by yourself, just like you always do."

"Lizzie, I don't understand what the matter is."

"Of course you don't Will, you never do. You change my order at the restaurant, you buy tickets to the film _you_ want to see, not the one we decided on together, _you_ always decide the time and place we have lunch – but this really takes the biscuit. You didn't answer me, were you going to ask, or were you just going to announce? Decree?" Will still did not seem to understand.

"It was going to be a surprise. I thought you would be pleased, you are always worried about fitting in extra shifts to cover bills – you moving in works out perfectly."

"But it doesn't! Because I can't move in with you, until firstly, you learn how to ask – politely – for my opinion, which you then take into account, and secondly, you trust me a bit more – which we both know you don't."

"Of course I trust you, Elizabeth, what are you on about? Don't be so ridiculous."

"And then there's that!"

"What?"

"The moment I start talking about important issues, the ones you don't want to acknowledge we need to talk about, suddenly I am 'stupid' and 'silly' and 'ridiculous'. It is just not fair for you to treat me like that will."

"I know, I am sorry, I should not have said that," he apologised.

"It is a bit less effective without the expensive gift though, isn't it," she huffed to herself as she turned away from him.

"Lizzie, I just want you to," he began.

"Well, Darcy, if you could 'want me to' a bit less, we wouldn't be in this mess. You can be so controlling, and it is not just me but Charlie, as well," she cried. "You have to have your say in everyone's lives, don't you?"

"What are you talking about, Lizzie?" Will's scowl was both confused and frustrated – it made Elizabeth even angrier that he was still maintaining his charade of innocence.

"You didn't think I would find out about you interfering with Jane and Charlie, did you? But Richard let it slip because apparently you didn't tell him that the woman whose heart got broken was your girlfriend's sister."

"Look Lizzie, I had evidence…"

"Oh, I heard all about this _evidence_. Please, enlighten me, what exactly was this _evidence_?" In the face of her crossed arms and stone-set expression, Will suddenly looked both sheepish and uncertain.

"Er, well, you know when we had the early Christmas at Charlie's, and I got a headache, and I went to get some painkillers from your bag. You see, there were two brown bags on the side, and I couldn't remember which was yours, so I just checked in the pockets to see if there was something of yours, so I would know, and there was a photo of Jane with Princess Jane Bingley, and a crown – if that doesn't say she at least a bit after his money, I don't know what does. And we both know what sort of family you come from, she has so much to gain from being with Charlie, and it is not like Jane has much to bring to the plate."

"That is an appalling thing to say, Will. I am not sure I can…my God," Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair in distress. "And that photo was not some indication of Janes 'master plan', it is picture I made as a joke when I saw how in love with Charlie my sister was. She only kept it because I insisted; she probably forgot she put it in her bag."

"Yes but, but," he stuttered, wrong-footed, "Charlie told me she started talking about marriage, and why would she want to get married so soon if she didn't want her share, as such."

"Because it is a conversation she has with any guy she is with for more than six months – just to check they are both on the same page about relationship goals and life plans."

"Oh."

"My God. I knew you had some twisted power complex, but you really are _that_ controlling – with me, and with your friends. I mean, when you set it out like this, I wonder if Wickham was right, and you are as controlling with Georgiana as you have been with me." From the change in Will's countenance, this was the wrong thing to say. He puffed himself up in front of her, muscles coiled like a dog with its hackles raised.

"Don't you dare bring up Wickham," he growled.

"Well what am I supposed to think? You won't tell me what happened, and you still haven't been to see anyone about it."

"You only asked me to not long ago!"

"Have you booked an appointment, or even just found someone you are happy to see?"

"No, but you have no right to talk about Wickham to me, are you clear? You just need to keep your nose out of it," he demanded hostilely.

"Oh, we are clear alright." Elizabeth walked into the bathroom, and Will followed on her heels, looming threateningly over her shoulder. When he saw her pick up her wash bag, he grabbed her arm, and shook her slightly.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I am doing?" She shrugged of his hand, pushed him away, and continued to gather all her things from around the side of the sink, then she brushed past him as she strode back into the bedroom. "I let you get away with lots of little things, Will. And when they started to be big things, I tried to help you, I tried to sort it out. But you don't get to treat me like this, and I can see now what I did at the beginning of the year – you and me? It won't work."

"No, no, Lizzie, please. What are my family going to say?"

"You think I give a damn about what your family is going to say? You would actually like me to put your reputation with your family above my own well-being?"

"That wasn't what I said, I just meant that you are being a bit thoughtless, when my Aunt has planned…"

"Stop right there," Lizzie told him firmly as she dumped the last of her clothes into her suitcase and zipped it up forcefully. "You don't get to put me down one more time." She made her way out of her room and through the hallways – carrying her suitcase because she did not want to leave wheel marks on Tom and Joyce's lovely thick carpets – until she found Georgiana's room. She took a wrapped parcel from under her arm and placed it gently on the bed, then she carried on through the house until she found the family where she had left them, in the largest sitting room. Upon her entry, Joyce asked kindly,

"Did you get something sorted out dear?" It through Elizabeth for a second, before she realised that the older woman was talking about the ball, which was now the furthest thing from her mind. Lizzie extended a hand to her, which Joyce took with confusion, and said,

"Thank you so much for having me here, your home is lovely. I am sorry I cannot stay any longer." As Elizabeth approached Georgie, Joyce turned to her nephew to ask what was going on, but Will did not reply. He watched as his girlfriend – ex-girlfriend – crouched in front of his sister, gently put a hand either side of Georgiana's face and kiss her forehead.

"I left your present on your bed, sweetie, I hope you like it."

"What's going on, Lizzie, where are you going?" Georgiana asked, baffled by their behaviour.

"Elizabeth, please," Will pleaded from the doorway. Lizzie looked into Georgiana's eyes and said,

"I have got to go now, and I don't know that we will see each other again. But I want you to have a really great Christmas, and I wish you all the luck in the world for your exams, okay?" Elizabeth stood and began to walk out of the room, but Will blocked her path. "Please Will, just let me go." She was emotionally exhausted and physically drained, so was grateful when Will relented and stepped to the side. She couldn't bring herself to say a final goodbye.

Standing with her suitcase on the driveway, she called for a taxi, but it would take a while to come, so she decided to start walking down the long driveway – she could not stay by the house any longer. A few minutes in, she was intercepted by Richard, who had been out for a walk. He asked her where she was going with her suitcase, but when she told him she was leaving, he had the good sense not to press her. Instead, he offered to pull it for her, and he walked alongside her to the end of the drive, where he waited with her in silence until her taxi came. As he handed the suitcase over to the driver, Richard wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug, and as a few tears finally escaped from her eyes, he whispered,

"I am so sorry. I don't know what has happened, but I am sorry you felt you had to leave. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know – my number is still the same – but I understand all the same if you don't want to see any of us right now." Lizzie pressed herself harder in to the hug as Richard's hand came up to cradle the back of her head. "I would really love for you guys to work things out, but Lizzie," Richard pulled back to look into her yes, "make sure _you_ are your priority, okay?" Richard waited until the taxi had pulled out of sight before he turned and walked away.

TBC…

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	20. Chapter 19

A/N It seem everybody had strong feelings of some sort about the last chapter – I have reviewers coming out of the woodwork. Everyone agreed that Will had to go, but some people felt his behaviour was so bad Lizzie should never take him back. Hang in there, and you'll find out what happens next, but know that this is not Will getting off the hook. At all. Boy, is he going to have to work to get back into our good graces.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, sorry if I didn't get a chance to reply x

On that note, this story has reached 100 reviews! I am over the moon that people are still into this story – it is my first novel length project, and it means the world that people take the time to give me feedback. Thank you to every who is still reading Close Enough, this chapter – oh, what a chapter it is - is dedicated to all my lovely readers!

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When the door in front of her opened, Elizabeth could have cried. When the familiar face of her godfather appeared, her knees almost gave way. And when her Uncle Ed wrapped his arms around her, she finally let go, and the hours of hot tears that she had been holding in on trains, buses and in the taxi finally flowed free. She stood in his arms and sobbed on his shoulder, then when she was too tired to stand and too empty to cry, she curled up on the sofa with her head in his lap, and she thought she might just make it through the night.

When she had dosed off, Ed gently lifted her off of him and slipped a pillow under her head. His wife Maddie padded in quietly with a thick blanket in her arms which Ed lay over Elizabeth and tucked around her shoulders.

"Did she tell you what is wrong?" Maddie whispered as Ed softly stoked Lizzie's hair and pressed a kiss on her forehead. He waved her in the direction of the next room and explained as they walked out,

"She didn't say a lot, but from what I can gather, she broke up with her boyfriend – and it was not an easy break up from the sound of it. That is all I got out of her before she fell asleep; I think she will be spending Christmas here after all."

"I am glad. She was so worried about intruding, it makes me so angry with that woman Rupert married, as if our little Lizzie could ever intrude here."

"I know, love," Ed murmured, "I know."

"It doesn't help that we put my mother up in her old room. It might make her feel worse to have to sleep on the sofa." Maddie chewed on her knuckle lightly as she worried. "But I don't think we can ask my mum to stay anywhere else."

"Lizzie won't mind too much. We will just have to make sure she knows we could not be happier she is here."

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Elizabeth stayed with her godfather and his wife all through Christmas and the week after New Year. And while she immersed herself in their love and comfort, she tried not to think about the end of her relationship with Will. When she tucked into Christmas dinner, she was reminded of the early Christmas she had celebrated with him – but this only led to thoughts about Charlie and Jane, and she was reminded of her anger over Will's interference.

She watched as Ed and Maddie spent the evenings cuddled on the sofa, remembering how she and Will would lie together, her head on his shoulder and his arms around her waist. But then she would recall how he would change the TV channel to what he wanted to watch, and had rarely asked her opinion. At the time, she brushed it off, told herself that he was just used to making all the decisions. Now she knew he was controlling, controlling enough to make the most important decisions without thought for her input.

To make it all worse, Elizabeth thought me might have actually been falling in love with Will. She had been falling for man who showed borderline abusive behaviour, falling for a man who thought her sister was a gold digger, just because Jane did not come from a wealthy family. _Was he thinking that about me, as well? Or did he decide that because I am doing a good degree and will have to opportunity to earn quite a bit of money, I am worth the risk?_ Elizabeth spent a week with doubts and angry thought spiralling around her mind.

As she was sleeping on the sofa, she was usually awoken by whoever rose first – her godfather, mostly – but she often stayed wrapped in the duvet until well into mid-morning. Two days after New Year's, she was cocooned in the warmth of the covers, a cup of tea cooling down on the table in front of her, when the doorbell rang. Ed rushed down the stairs to answer it, and Elizabeth listened half-heartedly. The television, which had been playing in the background, flared noisily, so Elizabeth missed the start of the conversation. But she caught the end, and it left her frozen in her seat.

"And please could you tell her I will not be in Meryton this term – it is in the letter," here, the voice faltered, "but she might not get that far."

"You know I should burn this, and never let her know you were here, don't you," Ed threatened harshly. It was not a question.

"I know, Major. Please, just tell her I am sorry." Elizabeth could not hear any more, but she heard the door close, and knew he was gone. When her godfather entered, he was carrying an envelope and wearing a sympathetic smile.

"He was here." Elizabeth closed her eyes.

"I heard."

"I shouldn't pass his message on, but I will do it for you. He said he wrote this letter to you, and he called in as he was driving back to Meryton. He says he will be gone by the time term starts. The rest is in the letter. I will be in the kitchen if you need me." Ed placed the letter down on the table by her tea, squeezed her hand and left. When Elizabeth picked it up, her hands were shaking, but she wasn't sure which emotion – of the multitude she was feeling – was making her blood pulse so violently in her ears.

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Dear Elizabeth,

I know I have no right to ask you to read this letter; if you chose to throw it away or burn it before you can even read this far, I understand. I have had a lot of time to reflect on everything the last few weeks, and while I do not deserve to give excuses, you deserve an explanation.

Firstly, I am sorry for my officious and controlling actions in regard to your accommodation. I should never have presumed to make a decision regarding us living together, when it should have been made just like that – together. I also overstepped when I spoke to your landlady, although I must confess, I did call her a few days ago, just to check you still had somewhere to live. I did not think you would want me to call _you_. I should have recognised how my behaviour was out of line when you were kind enough to point out the small things, and I am sorry I let it get so out of hand. I hope it reassures you to know that I have spoken to Georgiana, and she knows now to point it out to me if I am ever similarly controlling with her.

On the subject of George Wickham - I do not know what Wickham told you, and it is my fault we have never spoken about it. But he usually tells people a sob story about how difficult his life has been since I cruelly fired his father.

The elder Mr Wickham was Pemberley's steward for almost twenty years. Mr Wickham was not just my father's steward, he was also his friend, and when George was born, my father was named his godfather. As boys, we would spend the summers playing together, running like wild things around the estate. But when my father became ill and I took over the running of Pemberley, I learned that for years, Mr Wickham had been embezzling money from us. I kept it quiet, and just made it very difficult for him to continue, because I knew that his betrayal would break my father's heart. But when my father passes away a year later, I asked him to hand in his resignation.

By this time, George was nineteen. He had flunked his GCSE, dropped out before his A levels, and spent a year and a half making a nuisance of himself in the village. In an attempt to keep him on the straight and narrow after his father had to go, I hired him to help on the grounds – I figured that as he had spent so much time there as a child he would know a thing or two about the place. But within a month, he was caught stealing from the stables – expensive pieces of tack he was selling on – so he had to be let go. Like father, like son.

After that, he got himself and others into lots of trouble, he even got another teenager pregnant, but she lost the baby. I confronted him about his behaviour a couple of times, but he was determined to keep himself stuck in his downward spiral – I realised that the boy who had once been my friend was gone, and the man in his place was vile and repulsive. But that is only the tip of the iceberg, and I was always justified in my behaviour towards him, especially that night at Charlie's.

Georgiana has always been an incredible dancer. She started going to ballet classes before she started school, and from the very beginning it was obvious to everyone, even people like me who did not know anything about dancing, that she was a star in the making. About three years ago, she began dancing for the English National Ballet's Youth Company – she performed on some of the most prestigious stages in London, and was considered one of the best up and coming dancers in the UK. She would travel down to London for ENGYouthCo. rehearsals, and would then practice several days a week at a ballet studio in Meryton.

Last year, without my knowledge, George Wickham met Georgiana. She had known him as a small child, and had not heard anything of him – good or bad – since, so did not realise she should be actively avoiding him. He 'accidentally' bumped into her several times, telling her that he had been stationed in the area, but Richard and I doubt it was ever a coincidence, as he began to exhibit signs of an obsession with her. He would spend hours at a time waiting outside of her school and the dance studio. He persuaded her to give him her phone number, and would call her persistently late at night. I only found out that Wickham was in the area when I decided to surprise her at the ballet studio, and found him loitering outside. At this point, Georgiana told me everything that had happened, and confessed that she had not told me until then because she knew Wickham had been a childhood friend of mine, and did not want to upset me.

Richard arranged a restraining order for Wickham. I am told that with early intervention, stalking can be stopped, but by the time we found out about it, it had gone too far, and the restraining order just enraged him. He violently confronted Georgiana at the ballet studio – he caught her at the top of the stairs as she came from the floor above, and he hit her repeatedly. He then threw her down the stairs, which left her with a shattered tibia and bruised ribs. At the bottom of the stairs, she crashed into a table which had a thick glass top – the glass smashed as she went through it, which gave her the scars on her face and shoulders. Her future as a dancer was over in that second.

She has had to have three operations on her leg. She now has a metal plate to support the bone which never fully strengthened after it was broken; she also had to have the muscle repaired when some of it was sliced clean through by a fragment of bone. And now, when the weather changes, my little sister's bones ache.

The only witness to this was Georgiana herself – there were no cameras in the stairwell and nobody else around. Wickham did not even leave behind enough forensic evidence. Richard and I tried to convince her to testify against Wickham, but she was too traumatised and scared, so we were not able to press charges – the CPS said the case was too weak. [1] So Wickham is still out there, having hurt my sister, and there is nothing I can do about that unless Georgiana changes her mind.

This is why I haven't been able to talk about it. But just after the New Year, I had my first appointment with a psychologist, and she suggested that when I wrote about it, I wrote the facts like I did – clinically – because I am still struggling too much with all of my anger and guilt to talk about them freely, let alone write them down. But I am going to continue to see her, and she is helping me to work through it.

On the subject of Jane and Charlie, all I can say is I am sorry. I gave my friend bad advice, based on my impression of your sister which I know now was wrong. I have seen Charlie get hurt several times by women who were just after him for his family's money, and I mistakenly tarred your sister with the same brush – when I saw that photo of Jane it preyed on worries I had previously had, but ultimately, they were unfounded.

I can see now that you invested a lot in our relationship, and you tried to give me opportunities to be a better man - I will always regret that I was never able to be that better man, for you. But I will never regret the memories we made together and chance to share my life with such an incredible woman, even if it was only for a few months. You do not have to worry about seeing me around this term – I have accepted a placement as part of my Masters, so you need not be concerned about bumping in to me.

I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time, I can only hope that with the information this letter provides, you might remember me with softer feeling than those you previously held.

Yours,

Will

TBC..

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[1] Crown Prosecution Service. The CPS is the principal public prosecuting agency for conducting criminal prosecutions in England and Wales.


	21. Chapter 20

A/N This document was saved as Close Enough Chapter 20 3rd time's the charm. That's right, I totally rewrote it three times. I am still not quite happy with it, but I need this chapter out of the way before I can write the next one… we are getting to the good bits soon!

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The letter Will had written stayed in Elizabeth's handbag for the few days she remained with the Gardiners. Then it moved to her bedside table, where it remained, unless it was taken out to be reread, which happened most mornings. It became a ritual for her – torturing herself with the multitude of emotions it inspired in her. One line, the very last line, haunted her.

 _Yours,_

 _Will_

But he wasn't.

 _Yours,_

 _Will_

Not anymore.

 _Yours_

It hurt.

She was right to have left him, of that she was sure. He had potential, so much potential, to be a good man and the best partner, but he was not there yet. And Elizabeth was not in a position to hang around while he worked on it. He had been far too controlling, it was almost creepy, and she was not prepared to stick around when he was being borderline abusive. But she still cried.

She cried of herself, for the loss of the man that she thought she loved, for the man who wasn't ready for a relationship with her, but she also cried for Georgiana. The sweet girl she had come to love dearly, who had been through so much. She cried for her sister, who had lost the first man who actually understood her. She cried.

Then she didn't cry. The tears hung around behind her eyes, that awful pressure which throbs and burns but is never relieved. She would curl up at night in her bed, all alone, not crying.

 _Yours_

Not crying was worse. She got on with her life, not crying, as though she didn't have a hollow in her chest and an ache in her heart.

There a few times, in the beginning, when she picked up her phone and almost called him. The first time, she sat for two hours with that phone in her hand. She could never bring herself to call. It all hurt too much.

There was one time she gave in to her desire to see him. It was a month after she left him, two weeks after he wrote her the letter. She walked to his flat, and she knocked on the door, and he didn't answer.

She had forgotten. How could she have forgotten? He was gone.

Her strength left her then, and she slumped against his door – she curled herself tightly with her forehead against her knees. Elizabeth did not know how long she stayed like that, but she only got up because she heard someone call her name.

"Hi Lizzie, is that you?" It was the middle-aged lady who lived in the flat next to Will, Claire. "I've got something for you," she said with a sympathetic softness to her eyes. Claire disappeared into her apartment for a moment, then re-emerged with a cardboard box. "I think he cleaned and ironed everything, so you don't need to worry about that." Claire handed it over, and the contents was immediately recognisable as everything she had left at Will's flat. Various items of clothing, her spare hairbrush, the toothbrush she always borrowed, a notebook she had once left behind. It was a box of their life together, and he had left it for his neighbour to give back.

She did not know how that was supposed to make her feel. She had not realised how much Will had become a part of her life, how dependent she had become on him. She would find herself waiting for her phone to ring late at night, before remembering that Will would not call anymore. She would see something funny and remind herself to tell him later, but there was never a later that would involve him.

At times, she blamed herself. She thought that if she had addressed their issues earlier, if she had pushed him and made him talk to her, then everything would not have come out all at once. But Elizabeth knew that she _had_ pushed, she had encouraged him to talk to her at every opportunity. She also knew that if she had forced him to talk, he would have closed off, and their relationship would have ended even earlier _. Perhaps that would have been better.\\\\\_

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After a relationship ends, life carries on. Despite no longer being with Charlie, Jane had seen her three-month notice through, and left the surgery in London – she had given her part of the lease on the flat where she had lived, and she moved back to Oxfordshire to live with the Bennet's. Her new job with social services would not start for several weeks, so Jane was making the most of her free time by driving the short distance to Meryton to see Lizzie.

On this particular day, the sisters had venture out in the frigid February air to take a stroll.

"How are you doing, Jane, really?" Jane gave Elizabeth a serene smile, but it was brittle.

"I am doing fine. Charlie and I have been over for more than two months now, three really, I am over it." Elizabeth gave Jane a disbelieving look.

"Janie, you gave up your job to be closer to him."

"And to be closer to you, and to the family, and to have the change of careers I was looking for. Really, Lizzie, I am fine." Elizabeth linked her arm through Jane's.

"Well I am glad you are doing better, then. You had me worried for a while." Jane smiled softly at her.

"And how are you doing, sweetie. Have you heard from Will at all?"  
"No, he is not in Meryton anymore, but I don't know where he went, just that he had a placement somewhere. I know that Georgie has gone back to London to live with Richard. I spoke to him a while ago – he wouldn't tell me much about Will, he said that was Will's prerogative, but it was nice to hear Georgie is doing alright."

They continued on their walk, making their way further into the town to stop for lunch. With Elizabeth on a student budget and Jane currently unemployed, they chose the cheapest place on the high street. Unfortunately, it attracted some unsavoury characters.

"Hi there Lizzie," George Wickham called as her made his way across the coffee shop. Elizabeth tried to pretend she could not hear him, but Wickham approached, and tapped her on the shoulder, "Hello Lizzie. It's me, George?" Elizabeth grimace into her sandwich, but turned to greet him.

"Hello George." Her tone did not invite further conversation, but Wickham either did not notice or did not care.

"How are you? I haven't seen you around much recently."

"Hmm, yeah," she hummed noncommittedly, "Well, I've been here."

"I heard you were seeing Will Darcy. Maybe you could speak to him, I was thinking about trying to reconcile."

"Yeah. No. That's not happening – something about a restraining order? You are not getting to Georgiana through me." Wickham attempted to hide his shock under his usual affable façade, but it bled through. "Yes, I know about that. I suggest you never speak to me again Wickham." He tried to stammer a retort, but both Elizabeth and he knew that they were no further profitable avenues for him to try, so he pretended to misunderstand her, before he had to rush off to an 'urgent appointment'.

Elizabeth turned to Jane, who was looking very confused. "If you ever see that man, don't talk to him. He is dangerous."

"Dangerous? No, he looks quite nice – he was very friendly."

"Janie, I can't tell you how I know, but I do, okay? He is not somebody you want to be acquainted with."

"Are you sure it was a misunderstanding? He really did seem quite pleasant."

"Th worst ones do, Janie, the worst ones always do."

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There were moments Elizabeth thought about contacting Will. But as time passed, the reasons she left him became fuzzy and distant in her mind, and several times she had picked her phone up with every intention of calling him. But after her visit to his apartment, she had lost all confidence – she never did press dial.

She was left with an underlying sadness which rose up at the oddest times, when something suddenly reminded her of him. But Elizabeth was not made for melancholy, so she immersed herself in her school work, which she loved – despite it being difficult and time consuming – and she took comfort in having her sister nearby. By Easter, Lizzie rarely thought about Will anymore, and she was making new memories around the campus, memories which did not revolve around him.

At the start of the summer term, she opened her door to an unexpected sight – Charlie Bingley.

"Hey Lizzie," he said sheepishly, one hand rubbing the back of the other anxiously.

"Charlie," she replied evenly, leaning against the edge of the door with her hand on the doorframe, so the entrance itself was blocked. "I haven't seen you since, ooh, the end of December?"

"Yeah, I am sorry about that," he murmured, a guilty expression on his face. "Er, can I come in?"

"Why should I?"

"What?" Charlie looked taken aback.

"Why should I let you in? You suddenly stopped talking to me five months ago, I should be suspicious of you suddenly turning up here."

"Look, Lizzie, you know why I stopped hanging out with you."

"Ah yes, I was the sister of the gold digger preying on you, were you worried I would try to steal your money when my sister failed?"

"No," Charlie denied with vehemence, his tone offended. "It wasn't like that. Jane started to get very serious too soon for me – I wasn't in a place to digest it all at the time. Look, can I please come in?" Elizabeth begrudgingly let go of the doorframe and gesture him inside.

"Elizabeth, I need your help," he began, once he had sat on her old and battered sofa that she had found in a charity shop. "I need to talk to Jane."

"You are in _no_ position to ask that of me. And you don't deserve to talk to Jane, either."

"Please Lizzie, I made a mistake when I broke up with her – she overwhelmed me and I panicked. But when I went to her place in London, her housemates said she had moved back home, and I don't know where that is."

"Have you suddenly decided she is not a gold digger then?"

"For God's sake Lizzie, I don't think Jane is a gold digger!" Charlie looked angrier than Elizabeth had ever seen him. "Why do you keep saying that, is that what you think of me?"

"All I know is Will told you he thought Jane was after you for your money, then you broke up with her."

"What Will said did not make me break up with her. I was already considering that we might need to take a step back for a while, and when it transpired that somebody else had doubts about her, it was part of the catalyst, but Will is not the reason we broke up." Elizabeth looked thoughtful.

"That changes things." Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. "Before, I just thought you were gullible and a bit weak-minded. From what you tell me, breaking up with Jane was all your doing, which means I can blame you entirely for her broken heart." Charlie looked significantly less relieved.

"Please, Lizzie, you don't have to get involved, just tell me where I can find her."

"She took months to get over you, Charlie – I don't see why I should let you go in there and cause a whole load of damage when she is finally over you." Charlie's eyes were wide and beseeching.

"Just let me apologise. Please, Lizzie, please, just tell me where she is. I think she blocked my number because I can never get a response when I call, and I need to talk to her. Please." In the face of Charlie's apparent remorse, and understanding the need for closure after the end of a relationship, she gave him the Bennet's address with a firm stare.

"Don't bollocks this up Charlie."

"I won't," he promised earnestly. "And Lizzie, it's good to see you."

"Yeah," she replied as she closed the door behind him, "you too."

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Elizabeth's weekends were now always spent in her tiny flat, because she no longer had another place to go. Despite this, she was not lonely – Charlie was once again a part of her social circle. Not only was she seeing her redheaded friend more, but something was happening between him and Jane. It was much slower this time, and the couple were allowing their relationship to grow gradually, having restarted from scratch. They saw each other almost as infrequently as they had when they had begun seeing each other the year before – between Jane's new job with the social services and Charlie approaching the end of his fourth, and last, year of his degree – but they did not jump in emotionally as quickly and deeply in as they had the first time.

While Jane was in a constant state of cautious joy and Charlie was becoming increasingly demob happy, Elizabeth was generally feeling better about her life. [1] She was halfway through her Masters, her sister was not heartbroken anymore, and her life was on the up. Sometime, late at night, she would lie in her bed in her tiny flat and notice that she was lonely, but she never allowed herself any pity.

Although her occasional fits of melancholy did not make her miserable, she was buoyed by news that her godfather was leaving the armed forces after over twenty years of service. Upon his discharge, Ed and Maddie were going to spend the summer travelling around Britain, and their first destination was to be Maddie's childhood county of Derbyshire for hiking in the Peak District – Elizabeth had been invited along.

At first Lizzie had refused – "I know what you are like going on holiday, and I am not a fan of the lists and scheduled itinerary."

Maddie had laughed, and reassured her niece that she was in charge of the holiday, and there would be no itinerary, no regimented breakfasts, and definitely no clocks read in twenty-four-hour time. Elizabeth was doubtful that twenty years of habit would change, but figured it would an amusing thing to watch. She decided that a trip with her chosen family would be the best way to spend her holiday. In fact, she thought it would be just the thing to make everything better.

TBC…

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[1] Demob is short for demobilisation, which means 'to take troops out of active service, particularly at the end of a war.' Brits use demob happy to refer to the strange sort of happiness which comes with the end of something major, like retirement, the end of any institutionalisation (eg. school) and obviously, the end of a deployment or military service. You might recognise teachers at the end of the school year as going a bit 'demob happy'.


	22. Chapter 21

A/N I'm so sorry this chapter is late. Not only have I got another story on the go, but work has been crazily busy – two rescue Shetland ponies have come to stay with the lady I work for, so I can rehabilitate them. One is incredibly thin and quite ill, but doesn't mind handling; the other has obviously been badly mistreated, and flinches if you lift an arm near her. All of my energy has been going into getting these ponies well and happy, so I haven't had a whole lot of time for writing.

I love a modern P&P set anywhere, but I find that if it is outside the UK, certain interactions lack the quintessentially British polite awkwardness. I embraced it in this chapter.

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The end of the university year came with a sigh of relief. Elizabeth loved her subject and enjoyed studying, but a difficult course like chemical engineering required an intensity that would be impossible to maintain all year round. She thought that she had done well in her end of year exams, so she was reasonably sure that she had passed her second year, and all she wanted now was to forget about studying for a while and let her hair down a bit.

The first thing she did was go out for dinner with Charlie and Jane. It was the first time she had really spent any time with them as a couple since their break up, so Elizabeth was understandably apprehensive, but she found in the end that it was very easy to hang out with them. They no longer had the sweet but desperately intense atmosphere around them that they had had the first time around. Instead, Elizabeth found that they were much more relaxed, and the result was the feeling that Jane and Charlie were in a much more adult relationship, where issues were discussed and resolved, rather than bottled in. As people, Elizabeth was sure they had grown – previously, they had both been so occupied with keeping the peace and being gentle and kind to everyone, that had had forgotten to communicate with each other. Elizabeth got the sense that this was no longer a problem.

Having been cheered up by Charlie and Jane's success, Elizabeth was especially looking forward to her trip with her Godfather. As a teenager, Ed and his wife had been the support system which kept he grounded – they made her feel safe and loved and appreciated – and after the year she had had, Elizabeth thought that she deserved that feeling again. While she was very happy for her sister and friend, their happiness had been a brief reminder that she did not have the same anymore.

Ed and Maddie drove down from their house in the West Midlands to Meryton in a Land Rover they had borrowed from a friend especially for the trip.

"I wouldn't let him pack anything other than the basics, because let's be honest, we are not going anywhere that isn't close to a supermarket and shops. He forgets that he doesn't have to pack for any possible emergency," Maddie told Lizzie as they hefted her suitcases into the boot. Ed had disappeared. "He finally conceded control of the planning to me, but be prepared for complaints about my methodology. He is going to leave that part of him behind with the Army if it's the last thing I do!" Elizabeth just laughed, knowing that Maddie loved her husband deeply, irritating Army habits and all.

"How old is your boiler?" Ed had returned. Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't know. Can't be too old, I imagine."

"I don't lie the look of the lack of ventilation. Where is the gas inspection certificate?"

"Don't know. Not sure I've got one."

"There should be one on the premises at all times. Your need to talk to your landlady about that." In response, Lizzie just wrapped her arms around her uncle and murmured into his neck,

"I love you too." Ed sighed a laugh and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"I love you Lizzie, but please will you get a carbon monoxide detector?"

"I've already got one, and frankly, you really must be getting old if your eyesight was bad enough to have missed it." Maddie snickered, and Ed's expression became outraged.

"You are only a year younger than I am!"

"But you are still older – I think Lizzie is right, and you are feeling your old age, your OAP." [1] Ed launched himself at his wife grabbing her by the waist and tickling her mercilessly, until she cried,

"You're not old, you're not old, you are a young fit Adonis, in the prime of your life. Now stop tickling me!"

This was what Elizabeth loved most about the Gardiners. They were her example of a loving, steady adult relationship, which was held together by strong mutual respect and consideration. It was something she had been missing with Will. She could see now that he had not respected her as he needed to for them to have a balanced, healthy relationship.

When they piled into the car, it was Ed who took the driver's seat. Maddie turned from the passenger seat to stage whisper,

"He's agreed that I should drive when we get further north because I actually know the area, but how long do you think it will be before he gets a map out and declares his map reading ability to be more reliable than my memories of the area?" Ed shot a mock scowl at his wife while Elizabeth giggled.

"You should know by now, Maddie," Lizzie cried, "Nothing is superior to Uncle Ed's map reading."

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Elizabeth was in utter awe of her surroundings. He uncle had stopped in a layby on the side of a valley, and the family emerged from the car to the most spectacular view she had ever seen. Surrounded by green slopes, the bottom of the valley was filled by a blue-grey lake. The sun slipped from behind the clouds and the sudden light reflected off the surface with a spectacular shine. Lizzie was in love.

The drive north had been wonderful, with gentle banter and easy conversation. Some of the happiest times of Elizabeth's life had been spent with these people, and she dearly loved their company. The family checked into their rooms at a hotel on the edge of Lake Esthwaite Water, and spent the evening in the restaurant on the ground floor. The next morning they were out bright and early for their first hike of the holiday – a four hour walk to ease them all into the activity. The next few days were spent similarly, with hikes of increasing lengths and meals eaten in various hotel restaurants. By the end of the week, Maddie moaned that she was getting bored.

"I like a good walk as much as the next person, and I know this is your 'look at me, leaving the Army' thing – which is why I haven't complained until now, by the way – but I would really like to do something other than walk up and down hills. They are beautiful hills, I grant you, but I want to look at something a bit different." Elizabeth suggested a museum or gallery, but Maddie was not enthused by the idea and Ed looked mildly horrified. Ed suggested kayaking on the lakes, but Maddie wasn't a fan of that either.

"I'm busting my legs walking around these hills because I love you, please don't ask me to bust up my arms as well. And my hands! The last time I let you convince me to go kayaking, my hands had blisters for weeks!" Ed just grinned unabashedly.

"Oh, I know – didn't your friend, what's her name… Miranda? say her mum invited us to visit whenever?"

"Amanda! Yes, we should do that." Maddie turned to Lizzie. "My childhood best friend Amanda's mum works at one of the big estates near here. It is an incredible place, I visited when I was younger, and they open a couple of afternoons a week, I'll have to ring Mandy's mum to ask." Her excited shuffling pause for a moment, so Maddie could turn to her husband and glared. "And Amanda Reynolds was a bridesmaid at our wedding; I am going to try to ignore that your forgot her name."

Elizabeth was looking forward to going to this estate. She had fond memories of going to old houses and castles with her mum as a child, and she had always appreciated the architecture.

"I seem to recall there was a great park," Ed commented, "Do you suppose they will let us go for a hike?"

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The drive to the estate they were visiting was about forty-five minutes long, and very bendy. The scenic road wound through the hills until the landscape changed slightly – the slopes were not as steep and the valleys were wider. The land became lusher, and the short scrubby plants grew into tall hedgerows and coppices of trees. By the time Ed turned the car down the great driveway, which was framed by massive, intricately designed, black-painted metal gates, woodland loomed on one side while the edge of the parkland began on the other. In the distance, standing under the shade of two broad oak trees, a small herd of red deer were grazing.

"You grew up around here?" Elizabeth asked Maddie with awe in her voice.

"Yep" the older lady replied smugly, "the village I am from, Lambton, is a five minute drive from here. A lot of the people from the area are actually employed here." The was getting closer to the house – Elizabeth could tell because she could see chimney above the treetops.

"So what is this place called then? Stately homes always have grand names, don't they?" The car rolled into a sweeping drive, at the centre of which stood a magnificent stone fountain. The house itself was two storeys high – though Lizzie assumed there were also room in the roof, from the tiny window which poked out every so often – but very long. Built in pale sandstone, or something similar (Lizzie was a Chemical Engineering student, not a geologist) the mansions was somehow robust yet sophisticated. Wide steps led up the entrance, either side of which stood the thick columns characteristic of Georgian architecture. The doors were a dark wood, more than ten feet high, with a huge brass knocker, shaped like a roaring lion. Elizabeth got the impression that everything was very… big. Yet it was also very tasteful, and Lizzie's mind could not quite reconcile these two things.

"Pemberley. This is Pemberley."

All of the colour drained out of Elizabeth's face. The wave of nausea which hit her left her with her head between her knees.

"Oh please no." By this time, both Maddie and Ed had realised something was wrong. Ed rushed to the door on Elizabeth's side of the car, helping her out and manoeuvring her until she was sat on the bottom step of the entrance.

"We need to leave. Please, we need to leave."

"What on earth is the matter, Lizzie," Maddie asked from beside her. "You've gone white as a sheet."

"Pemberley. Country seat of the Darcy family."

"Yes, I know," Maddie nodded, "they are the big…. Oh no. Will?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"I am so sorry Lizzie, I don't know how I didn't make the connection. We can leave if you want to?" Before Elizabeth could reply, they were interrupted by the front door opening with a wooden groan.

"Little Maddie! You made it then, I was worried with the road closed coming from Lambton you might get redirected all over." Maddie stood with an enormous smile on her face, and ran up the step to embrace the woman you had emerged from the house.

"Mrs Mandy's Mum!" Lizzie looked to Ed with a puzzled expression, and he explained,

"Little Maddie is what Julie called Maddie as a child, because she was always shorter than everyone else, so Maddie calls Julie that because as a kid, that's how she referred to her."

"Right. Cause that makes…. sense," Lizzie shook her head.

"Julie, this is Ed's goddaughter, Elizabeth," the two women had descended to greet the others. "But she is not feeling very well, so I think we might have to go."

"No, no," Elizabeth protested, having changed her mind. Her aunt had lit up while greeting Julie Reynolds, and obviously they had a lot of catching up to do – Lizzie did not want to spoil her beloved aunt's enjoyment. "We can stay, I'm just, perhaps I'll stay out here. The fresh air might make me feel better."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to some in," Julie Reynolds offered, "The kettle's on, perhaps a cup of tea will do you good."

"No, thank you, really, I good."

"If you want to come and find us, just ask somebody where we are – there are plenty of people about."

"Thanks, I will." _No, I won't._

Somehow, through some wicked trick of the fates, she had ended up at Pemberley. _How did I not know what it was called before we came?_ Elizabeth was over Will. Of that, she had no doubt. She didn't love him anymore, if she ever did. But having this thrown on her without warning – being told this was Will's home, his favourite home – was a bid shock, and it brought back some of the pain and anger which remained after a break up.

Elizabeth decided to explore a little bit. _If I have to deal with all of these emotions, I may as well do it walking through some pretty woods._ Now that she had recovered from the shock, Lizzie could look at the situation with clearer eyes. _I accidentally ended up at my ex-boyfriend's house. Mansion. Manor? The boyfriend I broke up with because he was controlling and closed up and refused to communicate with me. But I'm not going in the house, so it is not likely that I'm going to meet him, so I don't need to worry about that. And once Maddie has visited her friend, we never have to come back here. The past can stay in the past._

The sound of twigs snapping startled her. Ahead, emerging from the trees, was Will. On a horse. With a camera. Will was on a horse. Coming towards her. Will was riding towards her on a horse, with a camera around his neck. Uh oh.

She knew the moment he spotted her, because he immediately reined his horse to a stop. The both looked at each other for a moment, speechless. Lizzie was the first to recover her ability to talk.

"Hello Will."

"Lizzie. You're… here."

"Yep.

Will got off his horse.

"Elizabeth. Hi."

"Hi."

"Um."

"How's Georgie?"

"Yeah, she's good."

"Er."

"How is Jane?"

"She's alright, yeah, she's fine."

"Are you… staying around here, then?"

"Um, yes, I'm with Ed and Maddie." There was a pause. "We've been hiking."

"There's been lovely weather for it."

"Yeah, it only rained a little the first couple of days."

"Hmm."

"And how is Richard?"

"He's not bad. Very busy with work."

"Yeah."

"How's your godfather?

"He's fine, yeah. Not too bad, not too bad."

Will gestured down a path – one neither of them had come from. "Are you heading this way?"

"Yes." Elizabeth did not have a clue where it led.

The began down the path together, Will leading his horse by the reins.

"And how is Jane?"

"Yeah, she's doing okay."

TBC…

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[1] OAP stands for Old Age Pensioner


	23. Chapter 22

A/N Après votre critique fabuleuse, **debos24680** , j'ai dû vous dédicacer ce chapitre!

For some unknown but very frustrating reason, this chapter came out as easily as typing through treacle. I hope it doesn't show too much.

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Will led Lizzie along the winding woodland path, and within minutes, the trees began to grow more sparsely. Suddenly the woods came to an end, and Lizzie was in a courtyard. The side facing the woods was open, and opposite, the way they were looking, was an arched carriageway, through which the main house of Pemberley could be seen. On either side ran stables, most of which had handsome faces peeking out over the low doors.

Will rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the reins of his horse in his other hand. "This is the oldest part of Pemberley – the courtyard was constructed in early Tudor times. Then, the manor itself was only half the size it is now. In 1726, sparks from a fireplace caught some curtains on fire, and once the thatched portions of the roof went up, the entire manor was burnt to a blackened shell. The manor which stands today was built in the aftermath, and at the same time they replaced the rooves of this courtyard to prevent a similar occurrence here." He slipped his horse's bridle off and put on a headcollar, tying the horse to the orange twine which was knotted to a ring on the wall.

"Which visitors' board has that written on it?" Lizzie asked with and eyebrow raised.

Will grinned sheepishly. "There is a series of them explaining the history of the buildings in the old ballroom – one of the public rooms." Lizzie smiled appreciatively, then extended a hand for the horse to sniff.

"Who is this handsome fellow?"

"This is Disney. He's my favourite horse here at Pemberley."

"I can see why, he's gorgeous." Disney was huffing gently at Elizabeth's hand. He had a dark bay coat and a slight roman nose, with a long, floppy forelock and kind eyes.

Will continued to untack his horse, his stiff movements indicating he was very aware of Elizabeth's proximity. Once the saddle and bridle had been hefted to the tack room, his camera placed down and Disney walked to his stall, Will stood in front of her, once again rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

"Elizabeth, there is someone I would like you to meet." He looked away uncertainly.

"Okay…?"

"But I am not sure you are going to be… pleased with me." Seeing her look of alarm, he quickly carried on, "No, no, it is just, she was going to be your Christmas present." Elizabeth's jaw dropped slightly as Will nodded at the stall next to Disney's. "But, you know, you never made it to Pemberley. Her name is Shamrock, though the grooms have taken to calling her Isabelle." The horse he was talking about a pale dappled grey, with a straight face and gently flared nostrils. Her mane was a dark grey and her forehead was pure white.

"Irish Draught – Thoroughbred cross?"

"From one of the best stables in Ireland."

Elizabeth focussed entirely on the horse in front of her – she did not know how to react to this situation. He had bought her a horse. A _horse._ On one hand, it was another example of his ridiculousness. After dating for four months, he had bought her horse, and a very expensive one at that, by the sound of it. It would have been one more way of making him dependent on him – by needing him for the facilities to keep Isabelle.

But she remembered a conversation she had had with him, quite a while before they had started dating, when he had realised how much she loved horses. He had asked if someone she knew would be able to look after her horse, so that she could always have the enjoyment of owning one. She guessed that even then he had been insinuating that _he_ could look after a horse for her, but she was touched that he remembered how much horses meant to her, and found a way to make it possible.

Ultimately, though, accepting a horse from her ex-boyfriend implied an intimacy which no longer existed between them. Will wasn't even her friend, let alone something more. So she stroked Isabelle on the nose, and she walked away.

"Where are you going?" Will called as he hastened to catch up with her.

"Back to the house – Maddie should have finished visiting her friend's mum by now."

"Please don't leave, Lizzie, there is so much we need to…"

"Nope. Not happening."

"I don't understand…?"

"I left you Will. I left you for a reason. Why on Earth would I want to hang around? Make no mistake, I didn't come here surreptitiously to see you, I was already here before I realised it was your home."

"Please Lizzie, just give me a moment, that is all."

"Fine," she turned sharply towards him, "What?"

Will paused as though uncertain where to begin. "I am sorry. That is the first thing. I am so sorry for how I treated you last year."

"Okay, but I already got all of that in the letter."

"I am sorry, but also, I know what I did. I truly understand what I did – how appallingly I treated you." He sighed loudly, and ran a hand through his hair. "I have been seeing a psychologist since January, because after your left, I realise just how messed up I was. And now I am… trying. I am not better yet, but I have learned to recognise when my behaviour is unacceptable – I can stop myself before it gets worse, so I can change it."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "So you can recognise what an abusive arsehole you were to me?"

"I, I… yeah, I deserve that. To answer your question, yes, I can. I know how bad it was. I'm just still working on never behaving like that again."

"For what it's worth, Will, I am glad you finally got yourself some help, though it was too late for us. But I still need to leave." He nodded in resignation.

"I understand. I'll be back in Meryton in the Autumn, perhaps we… could get coffee sometime?"

"I don't know Will, that doesn't sound like a good idea to me."

"Okay, but please, think about it. I know it didn't seem like it, but you mean an awful lot to me Lizzie. Maye just have a chat occasionally around the university?"

"I'll think about it. You are coming back to uni?"

"I decided to do a PhD. I did two terms placement at the end of my masters, and it made me realise I actually wanted to be in research."

"I never knew you wanted to go in that direction. Sounds exciting though."

"Yeah." They continued walking towards the house.

Will led Lizzie into the bowels of the manor, through tall, winding corridors and echoing rooms. Some of the rooms were easily recognisable as places open to the public – the furniture ranged in style from Queen Anne to the nineteen twenties, and information boards hung on some of the walls. Once they were past the public part of the house, the style morphed into a simple elegance Lizzie remembered from the Darcys' house in London. Eventually they reached the kitchen, where Maddie and Ed were sat at a large wooden table with Mrs Reynolds. All three of them had mugs of tea in their hands and there was a half empty plate of Jammy Dodgers in front of them. [1]

The reaction to Will's presence was very different depending on the person. Julie Reynolds lit up as soon as he walked in with Lizzie, leaping up to put the kettle back on. Maddie took a long sip of her tea before slowly putting the mug down, her eyes flicking between Elizabeth and her ex-boyfriend. Ed didn't move. His hard gaze was fixed on the other man, and he gripped his mug so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Elizabeth attempted to catch her godfather's eye to signal that she was alright, but his fixation was reminiscent of a tiger locked onto its prey.

"Will Darcy, right?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft. "We met at Christmas."

"Um, yeah. We did." Will rubbed the back of his neck. Again. Elizabeth was slightly concerned that by the end of the day, he would rub all of his hair off.

"My Lizzie must have told you how long I was in the Army. In fact, we are on holiday to mark me retirement. That makes it over twenty years."

"Uh huh."

To his right, Maddie rolled her eyes to Lizzie, then grimaced to her old friend in apology.

"We were all having a chat about it earlier – did you know, I know just how long you can leave a three inch knife wound in the thigh before it becomes critical." Will turned very pale.

"Alright, alright, Ed, that's enough." Elizabeth glared at him from across the table. "Will and I have talked, you don't need to get involved."

"But I think…"

" _I_ think I've got it sorted. Thanks for sticking up for me, but I can stick up for myself."

Julie Reynolds stood, picking up the plate and extending it in Elizabeth's direction. "Jammy Dodger?"

oOoOoOo

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet. Elizabeth was emotionally drained after her surprise encounter with the man she had left half a year before. Maddie was all talked-out – she had chatted not stop with her old friend for hours. Ed was sensible enough to keep his mouth closed.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Ed disappeared to him room to fulfil the classic British tradition of washing and changing before eating out while on holiday – something nobody ever did when at home. Maddie followed Lizzie into the younger woman's room and made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

"So…?" Elizabeth pottered about the room, pretending she did not know what her aunt was asking.

"Lizzie…?" She continued to ignore the older woman, disappearing into the bathroom to wash her hands.

"Come on Lizzie, you haven't done this since you were nine. Get back in here and talk to me." Finally, Elizabeth capitulated, and sank onto the bed next to her.

"Well, now I have met him. That is more than I can say of when you were actually going out together."

"What did you think?"

"I think… I think that he held up very well when your uncle started to glare at him and all. And he was very polite to me."

"But?"

"But. I know you haven't told me everything about what happened between the two of you, but I sounds to me like he wasn't a good man."

"See that's the thing, Maddie. He wasn't, but he was. He treated me badly, definitely. But I saw the way he treated other people, how sweet he could be… There is something I have been suspecting; I have not told anybody."

"Go on," Maddie urged as she wrapped an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders.

"I was thinking about the problems we had in our relationship – the way that he behaved seemed to change based on some sort of definitions he built in his mind." Maddie shook her head.

"I don't understand."

"Okay, look. The way I met him kind of skewed up my idea of him in the beginning. But he always seemed to me to be a man of strong morals. But when I became his girlfriend, things changed a bit. And then there were things he would say, little hints he would drop about his family…"

"Lizzie, darling, spit it out."

"I think a lot of his problems were learned. I don't know this for certain, of course, but now that I have had time to reflect and put all the little pieces together, I think his father was a controlling man, especially with his mother. And I think his mum died too young for him to be old enough to identify his father's behaviour as wrong; instead he internalised it as normal, and then did not really reflect on it as he got old enough to see a problem."

"Okay, I guess I see where you are coming from. But you know that doesn't…"

"Of course it doesn't excuse the way he treated me. But I know that he has been seeing someone, a professional, for months now. It would be dreadful for my idea to be true, but it would give his therapist something for him to undo – a pattern of behaviour for him to unlearn."

"And I suppose all of the responsibility he had to take on at a young age can't have helped him," Maddie said. "I have friends here – I know that Pemberley was on the brink of falling to pieces (figuratively speaking) before the 'young master' as they call him, took over. And I know that lots of people's lives have improved by having him in charge, but he really did have to take on a lot of responsibility."

"It gives me hope for him. He has the potential to be such a good guy – I really hope he has been trying. He says he has. But I am not sticking around to find out."

"You are not? I did wonder if you might see him again while we are up here."

"No. No, that would not be a good idea. Like I told him earlier, I broke up with him for a reason. I don't need to get myself entangled with that net again. Don't get me wrong, I hope he sorts himself out, for his sake, but I don't need to be involved. Not anymore.

"Are you sure? It might allow you to get some closure."

"Maddie, I really don't need closure, I already got it," Elizabeth replied convincingly. "I am so over him, I hadn't thought about him in weeks before today."

"Well I am glad," Maddie responded, giving Lizzie's shoulders a squeeze. "I want to see you happy."

Elizabeth gave her a soft smile and drew her into a hug. She whispered into her ear,

"I am, I am happy. I am happy here with your two; I am happy back in Meryton. Most importantly, I am happy without Will. I am happy just being me."

oOoOoOo

[1] Jammie Dodgers are a British biscuit made with two shortbread rounds filled with raspberry or strawberry jam. They've got a little heart cut out of the top biscuit.


	24. Chapter 23

A/N Everybody had a different reaction to the last chapter, ranging from Elizabeth needs to 'get over herself' to still disliking Will and thinking the horse just reeked of manipulation. Thanks to everyone who left a comment or review, I love hearing our thoughts x

I'm sorry it has been so long since the last chapter – not only am I incredibly busy with real life, but so many people have left thoughtful suggestions that the plan I had for this story has diverged in four possible directions. I still haven't decided which way it will go, so it might be a little longer until the next chapter is written. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little filler.

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The rest of Elizabeth's holiday with her godfather and his wife was delightful. After moving deeper into the lake district for a several days, they drove east, to the coast. Maddie had rented a charming cottage in Norfolk for them to spend a week by the sea. Elizabeth relished spending time with them. She loved her father and sisters, but after her mother died, it was these two people that raised her.

At the end of the summer, she returned to her tiny flat in Meryton. It felt like coming home. She had spent her life moving from one place to another, and the satisfaction of travelling for weeks then returning to a palace that was _hers_ was immense. The first thing she did when she when she got back was meet up with Jane. The sisters sat together in Elizabeth's tiny flat, sharing a selection box of chocolates and a bottle of red wine.

"I want to hear all about your trip," Jane demanded as soon as soon as they curled up next to each other on the old sofa. "Did you see the seals? I heard there are seals in Norfolk."

"There are," Lizzie laughed, "and we saw some. The pupping season had not started by the time we were there, but some of them looked distinctly pregnant. Or at least, very fat. But we can get back to the trip later, how is everything going at your new job?"

Jane smiled softly and grasped her sister's hand. "Oh, Lizzie, I love it so much. It is hard at times, really hard, to see the sort of situations the children are in. But it is so fulfilling – it is what I have always wanted to do. And Charlie has been great about it, working out when I need to vent, and when I just need him to cuddle me."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, asking, "How is everything with Charlie? Before I left, it was all going really well." Jane blushed and a shy smiled twitched at the corner of her mouth.

"It is going really well. I don't know what it is, but it feels different this time. Not more serious, necessarily, but more… I don't know, mature? Adult?"

"Like you actually have some idea what life entails, and how he is going to fit into yours?"

"Exactly! How did my little sister get so smart?" Elizabeth laughed sardonically.

"When I made some really bad decisions regarding men, then spent a lot of time reading psychology books. And talking to Aunt Maddie. And spending way too much time on the internet."

"How is your love life looking?"

"Definitely not _looking_. My life is hectic enough as it is, I'm not going to add dating to the tumult. If something comes along, it comes along. But no active searching, no siree."

"So if I told you that Charlie has a friend who we think would be really…."

"No! No. Absolutely not. I love you Janie, but not even for you will I let myself be set up. There is the whole pressure of him being a friend for you guys, and I don't even want to _think_ about attempting to fit blind dates into my schedule." Jane pouted playfully, but conceded with a huff.

"I suppose you know best."

"I do. Anyway, tell me how things are at home. How close are you to strangling Angelina?" Jane shot her sister a stern look.

"She is not that bad, Lizzie. And she's been really good about me staying there practically rent free. I chip in for the utilities, but she and Dad are not asking me to pay anything else, so I've been building up a little nest egg."

"Saving money, sounds lovely. What's that like?"

"You know, with the attic conversion, there would be space for you to move back home. And I bet that the cost of travelling for uni would be much less that all the bills you have at that little flat."

"I thought I made it quite clear as a teenager when I got out of there – nothing could make me stay, and nothing will make me go back. That woman made it hell for me, Jane, however much you like to pretend that she didn't."

"Don't you think some of that tension was because of your attitude? It can't be said you were the nicest teenager, Lizzie. Perhaps you cause the friction between you with your confrontational behaviour."

"No. Just no, Jane. I know you live in this ridiculous world of fairies and rainbows, but Angelina was vile to me, when I was just a little girl, and she is barely more civil to me now."

"She wasn't that bad. You must know she a difficult time fitting into the family when everyone was still feeling Mum's death." Elizabeth threw her hands in the air.

"I don't care, I really don't. She was horrible. It's like that thing, you know – if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound. Except you were there, and Dad was there, but you were both covering your ears. Even now, you can't accept that you saw the bloody tree fall down!"

"I hear what you are saying, I just don't think you are seeing it from the other side as well."

"Look, Jane" Elizabeth interrupted, "I don't want to fight. Can you just drop it? Please." In a demonstration of her healthy coping mechanisms, Lizzie poured herself another glass of red wine. "Can you pass the chocolates please?" Deliberately introducing a completely different topic, Elizabeth steered the conversation away from all of her fun, unresolved childhood issues.

"What are you watching on TV at the moment? I really need something knew to get into, I've been watching far too many repeats lately."

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After a stressful morning in a very fast-paced, three-hour lecture, Elizabeth was in dire need of a coffee. And possibly a doughnut. Her stomach growled angrily at her. _Scrap that, definitely a doughnut_. The nearest coffee shop was an artisan hipster place, with matcha-flavoured everything, freshly-pressed green juices and tables made from old pallets, but they did not burn the coffee and they sold good pastries.

The lunchtime rush had not started yet, so the queue only had a couple of people in it. The seating area was not very noisy, either, so she thought she might stay in, rather than ordering her coffee to go and wandering back to the university, as she usually did. The barista was a young man, probably in his late twenties, with thick mousy hair and a seemingly uncontrollable fringe which fell into his eyes when he tilted his head. As she browsed the black board outlining the increasingly ridiculous flavours of beverage, contemplating a mocha instead of her usual latte, from the corner of her eye she saw the cute barista look her up and down.

Elizabeth turned towards his with a raised eyebrow, letting him know that he had been caught. Rather than turning away, he shot her a very cheeky, if slightly sheepish, smile. Amused by his unabashed grin, she shook her head to herself, but smiled back. Even as her turned to serve the next customer, she could see that he kept glancing at her, a sweet half-smile playing at his lips.

When it was her turn to be served, the barista took her order with that same half-smile. And as she collected her jam doughnut and mocha, he winked at her though his flopping fringe. It was quite nice, she reflected as she found a seat by the window in which to enjoy her daily allowance of sugar, having a cute guy think you were cute in return. Perhaps she would come back tomorrow.

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The next day, she caught her first glimpse of her ex-boyfriend on campus. Her tutor's office had been moved to the building of the Department of Biology – a rather unfortunate accident with flammable chemicals had rendered a storage room and several offices unusable – and as she was exiting, she saw Will reading a noticeboard just down the corridor. She was about to attempt an unseen escape, but he turned at just the wrong moment and spotted her looking right at him.

"Lizzie, hi."

"Hi Will."

"How are you? Did you have a nice time in the holidays, after I saw you?"

"Yes, yeah, I did, thanks. The Lake district is beautiful. And we went to Norfolk, which was great."

"I love Norfolk – I think it is just a lovely as the West Country, at a third of the price."

"Yeah, it was gorgeous. And you, how are you?"

"I'm good thanks. This PhD thing has me busy, but I'm really enjoying it."

"That's good. I got to go now so…"

"Of course, yes, it was nice seeing you, Lizzie."

 _Well,_ she though as she walked away, _that was not quite as painfully awkward as the last time we bumped into each other, but it was close._

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Elizabeth returned to the coffee shop with the cute barista. It was much busier than the day before. The sporadic rattle of the coffee grinder played with the _clunk-clunk_ of the dishwasher, making a tuneless orchestra with the chatter of customers. Behind the counter, a short, blond woman was furiously stirring patterns into cappuccino froth. As far as she could tell, the cute man with mousy hair was not there.

She ordered her latte and took a seat on an old church pew at the side of the room which served as extra seating. The noise was made everything feel bigger.

"Lizzie?" The blond barista called as she held up a take-away cup with her name scrawled on the side. She politely elbowed her way to the counter, took her coffee with a nod of thanks, and attempted to make her way to the door. A tray piled high with plates and cups stopped her. Elizabeth had walked into the cute barista from the day before.

"Oh, I am so sorry." The man was trying to steady the tray as the stack of cups wobbled precariously. Lizzie grabbed the tray with her free hand, letting him adjust the dishes.

"Don't worry about it, er…" his eyes flicked down to her coffee cup, "Lizzie." He gave her a half-smile she recognised from the day before.

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and…"

"Really, it's fine. It gets busy in here, collisions happen."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I'm keeping you – I don't want you to get in any trouble. I'll get out of your way." Embarrassed about the whole situation, not least because he had been so understanding, Elizabeth put her head down and tried to leave quickly. He stopped her with a slight touch on her arm.

"Perhaps I'll see you here tomorrow?"

"Perhaps you will," she replied with an enigmatic smile.

TBC…

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	25. Chapter 24

A/N **Feel free to ignore.** I am so sorry I has been such a long time, but I do have a reasonable explanation – I was very ill. I have a condition which does not affect me when under control, but when something sets it off, I have the whole hog of neurological symptoms: brain fog which makes forming even a simple sentence difficult, arthritis which makes typing painful, crippling fatigue which makes it hard to get out of bed. It has been several years since the last incident, but this one made it impossible for me to write. I am also catching up with all my school work, so the next update might me a while away, but I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime. Thanks for the words of encouragement you send since the last chapter x

I think I have finally decided on a direction to take this story… let's see how long that lasts, shall we.

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When tomorrow came around, Elizabeth's mind was made up – she was going back to the café. Arriving during a lull in activity, she was only the second customer in the line, so when it was her turn to be served, she had the cute brunet's attention.

"Hi Lizzie, what will it be today?" he asked with a friendly smile. She ordered easily, but was not sure what else to say; she was born with many natural talents, but flirting was not one of them. In the end, she had payed with a smile but took her tray wordlessly. She picked a seat by the window. The table was different to the others – it was not made of old pallets, but the top of an old hardwood desk balanced on a long piano stool. She came for the coffee and good-looking baristas, not the eclectic furniture.

It turned out her lack of male-directed social skills was not a problem. When his colleague took over his spot by the coffee machine, he flapped a cloth dramatically to signal his next job, then made a bee line for her table.

"Hi there. Can I sit?" he asked, gesturing to the seat opposite her.

"Yeah, sure, but won't you get in trouble?"

"No, it'll be fine. It is a slow day, and the lunch rush is already over. I didn't introduce my self yesterday – I am Sam." He stretched across the table to shake her hand, then sat back comfortably.

Sam was a puzzle Lizzie could not quite decipher. He had the look of a boy band member, with a sweet smile and floppy hair, but it did not make him seem young. Rather, it gave him a cheerful sadness – a man who was still in touch with his youth, despite being forced to grow up. Elizabeth thought it was endearing.

"So, Lizzie, are at the uni?"

"Yeah, I'm in my third year doing Chemical Engineering."

"That sounds cool. Bit scary if I'm honest, I'm was never the most academic guy at school." His sheepish smile made Lizzy grin. His accent was long and low, with some drawn out vowels then the occasional short, clipped word, as though the word did not decide how to sound until it was already being spoken. She replied,

"It is a bit scary if I'm honest – I got stuck on some of the chemistry in my first year so I took it to one of my friends who was studying pure Chemistry, and he actually couldn't do it. Said it was leaps and bound above anything they were studying."

"I stand by what I said – terrifying."

"And you, did you go to Meryton?"

"No, no, I've only just moved into the area. I actually went to drama school in London and lived there for a few years after I left."

"That sounds cool, what made you move out here?"

Sam sighed. "I got priced out, basically. I was getting acting jobs here and there, a couple of good runs on stage, but mostly I had to work in hospitality – you know, waiting and bar work and the like. It was not enough for me to keep paying London prices, so I've had to come out here to build up some saving before I can get back there."

"That sucks, I'm sorry."

"No, it's been fine – obviously most acting work is in London, but I was actually involved in something which shot not far from here, and there have been a couple of projects which payed enough for me to commute. I think its working out well so far."

"Have you been in anything I might have seen?"

"Possibly, do you see much theatre? That was mostly what I was doing."

"I don't really, I have not been in years."

The conversation continued for a while, as Elizabeth and Sam took turns to ask each other questions. Eventually, his co-worker began signal him from behind the till, frustrated that he had been abandoned to man the fort by himself.

"I'm going to have to get back," he sighed. "Maybe we can continue this conversation tonight? Over dinner?" Lizzie was slightly taken aback. In her experience, things never happened this quickly – all of her previous boyfriends had been friends for months before the had dated. _I think I like this change of pace._

"That would be nice. I'll meet you in town – where are you thinking?"

"There is a nice bistro further down the high street, I can book a table for seven?"

Once they had agreed upon the details, they exchanged number in case there was a change of plans. Meanwhile, the queue at the till had started to grow in length and the man behind the counter was frantically signalling to Sam in between taking orders and pressing buttons on the coffee machine.

"I was lovely to speak to you, Lizzie, I'll see you later," he murmured as he stood up.

"Yeah, you too." She waved to him as she left the coffee shop and walked far enough away that he would not see her through the window before she began to frantically dig in her bag for her mobile. "Jane, help me! I have a date tonight and I don't know what to wear. What are you supposed to wear to a bistro?"

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Jane had been in work when she picked up Elizabeth's call so Lizzy had to wait until five for her sister to call her back. By this time, Lizzy was at home in her flat, turning her wardrobe inside out. With her gentle manner and practical advice, Jane had quickly settled her down. The ability to video call saved the day – Lizzy balanced her phone on the kitchen counter to hold up various items of clothing until an outfit had been agreed upon.

Jane had left her with a reasonable request: "If you decide to have a bit more… _fun…_ with him than you are planning to right now, can you please text me the address? I don't want to have to worry." Elizabeth had laughed incredulously at her – it would be out of character for her to go home with Sam tonight – but agreed.

The next difficulty she encountered happened at she was stood in front of the maître d', five minutes before seven.

"You don't happen to have a reservation under Sam, do you? No?" She did not know his last name.

The situation was only resolved because Sam turned out to be just as punctual as Lizzy, and arrived at the restaurant a minute after her. They laughed about it as they sat down,

"What did you save my number in your phone as, if you did not know my last name was Digby?" Lizzie could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks as she reluctantly admitted it was saved under Sam Cute Barista.

There was a lull in the mood as they looked over the menus. She Elizabeth could feel Sam's gaze flicking up to her periodically so she kept her head down and avoided his eyes until he asked,

"Is everything okay, Lizzie?" His kind tone only made her feel worse.

"I'm sorry, its been a long time since I have done this. I am just a bit nervous."

"Would it help if I admitted I was nervous as well?" he offered.

"It would actually," Lizzie laughed.

The restaurant Sam had picked was a good choice, in Elizabeth's opinion. The atmosphere was warm while still feeling classy – the light fixings were polished and shining, tall potted house plants lent the diners some privacy, the bottles on the shelves behind the bar were arranged into a colourful display. The waiting staff were wearing polite smiles and doing a good job of pretending they did not dislike their jobs as much as servers often seem to. Their assigned waiter took their order with practised ease then left them to continue the conversation.

"So, Sam, where did you grow up?"

"That is a bit of a long story actually…"

"Why don't you tell me your long story then I'll tell you mine – we'll see whose is longer."

"Did you move around too?" Lizzy gestured for him to talk first. "Okay, well, let's see." Sam took a drink and rubbed the side of his nose with his forefinger. "I grew up in Swansea in south Wales – both my parents are Welsh as well. We moved to Cumbria when I was ten, then down to London when I was in sixth form. I have been all over the place, really. That's why my accent is a bit of a muddle sometimes.

"What about you? Where did you grow up?"

"I was born in Manchester, but I don't remember it – my earliest memories are nursery in Germany. We moved to Cyprus when I was about five, then back to the UK, to Surrey, about a year and a half after that. Since then I've lived near Windsor, the West Midlands and here."

Sam nodded vigorously. "You win," he declared firmly.

The rest of the meal continued in a similar vein – light-hearted questions and casual laughs. Elizabeth let herself be absolutely charmed by her companion. It had been quite a while since she had been so attracted to man; it had been even longer since she was still attracted after having a conversation with them. A unanimous decision was made after the main course that they would be having desert.

"I can't decide between the chocolate lava cake or the citrus syrup sponge," Sam groaned after several minutes of contemplation.

"You know, I was having just the same problem. The chocolate cake sounds divine but I saw the syrup sponge go past a minute ago and it looks so good!"

"Why don't we split it? Two deserts, two spoons, half of each desert, each."

"I like the way you think," Lizzie announced, pointing at him in admiration.

As they waited for the pudding to arrive, the logistics of the arrangement required some ironing out – Elizabeth was an engineer, the fine details needed to be established.

"Do we cut a line down both to ensure an even half-and-half spread, or do we operate under a trust system and promise not to eat more than our share?"

"Why don't we both just tuck in, and see how it goes," Sam suggested as he chuckled softly to himself.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him playfully and accused, "You're one of those spontaneous types, aren't you? No, no, don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes." He raised his hands in admission.

"I am, I'm sorry. Sometimes," he leaned forward and lowered his voice as though confessing a deep, dark secret, "Sometimes, I wake up in the morning with no plan for what I am going to do that day, then I," he paused dramatically, "wing it." He held her gaze tensely until she finally broke, falling into fits of laughter.

"I can see it now, the actor thing."

"Classically trained, I am," he declared proudly.

When the bill came, they split it diplomatically. As they walked from the restaurant, Lizzy slipped her arm through his. His only response was a smile. When they reached his car, he offered her a lift home, but she declined, knowing it was only a short walk to her flat.

"Thank you so such a lovely evening, Sam."

"I am glad you had a good time too. I would really like to see you again."

"I'd like that." There was a pause as Sam looked at Lizzie, as Lizzie looked at Sam – the moment stretched and pulled for several seconds until they leaned forward at the same time and their lips touched.

The kiss only lasted an instant but it left a smile on Elizabeth's face. As she walked away with a soft goodbye, she sent a text to Jane,

" _Heading back to mine tonight, not too much fun for me."_

Then she sent another one. _"Don't rule it out for the future."_

TBC…


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